


A Star to Steer By

by Wishfulthinking1979



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age of Sail, Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst and Feels, Are we all agreed we hate Ozzel in every fic?, British Empire, British Military, British and French hostilities, Bromance, Brotherhood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Friendship, Gender Disguise, Georgian Period, Hurt/Comfort, Let's weigh anchor, Minor Character Death, Skywalker Family Drama (Star Wars), Skywalker Family Feels (Star Wars), Tall ships and Skywalkers, The Royal Navy, period attitudes, period drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 89,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28805331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishfulthinking1979/pseuds/Wishfulthinking1979
Summary: Napoleon seeks to take over Europe and Britain will stop him if she can. She seeks to show him that Britannia rules the waves indeed, and the might of her navy will overcome this usuper.Our story focuses around a newly commissioned post Captain who must defeat not only the French, but also the class prejudice of the time and a very oppressive Admiral. We follow Firmus Piett as he joins the Devastator and seeks to survive vice Admiral Ozzel while hunting the French fleet.Along the way, he discovers an unlikely friendship with a Marine Colonel, and makes the acquaintance of the famous Skywalker family. Piett must not only earn the confidence of his men, but also of Admiral Lord Vader, as they seek victory in the Mediterranean over Bonaparte.
Relationships: Firmus Piett & Anakin Skywalker & Maximilian Veers, Firmus Piett & Maximilian Veers, Firmus Piett and Anakin Skywalker, Firmus Piett and Lieutenant Venka, Leia Organa & Anakin Skywalker, Leia Organa & Firmus Piett
Comments: 360
Kudos: 89





	1. A Very Dull Evening Indeed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ktulu1347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktulu1347/gifts).



> I'm at it again everyone. I got seized with the idea of a tall ships AU and I sprinted right down that path, arms waving wildly. xD  
> Once again, I had such fun nerding out over a period piece-- researching the British Navy of the period, looking at hundreds of tall ships, reading extensively on Nelson's battles and life, and trying to cram into my head points of sail and the terminology needed for commanding one of these gorgeous ships of the line.  
> I'm sure there are mistakes. I did my best and hope you can forgive that.  
> I had such a grand time placing our favorite Star Wars characters into this world and in so doing discovered that I had written a period drama more than my usual action driven fare. Oh there's some action absolutely! But this was a story in which I had a lovely time crafting the characters to fit this context and make each other's acquaintance in a way consistent with the time. (I hope ;D)  
> Not only this---but I discovered digital drawing at last, and can assure you that I have at least five illustrations lined up to share because I am in love with this method and again wanted to show you our people in period dress.  
> Finally, this work is a gift for ktulu1347, because they have been unfailingly generous in supporting my writing, and also because they share a love of things historical. Thank you so much.  
> And last but not least, thank you to my unofficial beta, Morwen, who cheers me on and is an unfailing sounding board for my thoughts. :)  
> Thank you all for reading and for putting up with a long note. (You can see I'm excited.)  
> I would love to hear what you think! :)

Newly commissioned Captain Firmus Piett glanced around the large exceedingly crowded ballroom and sighed internally. It would not do to sigh externally lest his commanding officer magically materialize in order to critique him for it. 

Vice Admiral Ozzel had been, well, let’s just say he had been less than pleased to discover that Admiral Lord Nelson had personally promoted Piett to Captain of the Devastator, Ozzel’s flagship, as a reward for Piett’s actions in the Battle of the Nile.

Ozzel came from an old family in Kent and never allowed anyone who had known him longer than ten minutes to forget it. Thus, having a Captain who hailed from Manchester, a town absolutely bursting with merchant class and new money, was deeply embarrassing to him. 

He had lectured Piett on manners and behavior for a function such as this the entire carriage ride over from the harbor. Piett was rather certain he would have been made to walk if there had not been enough people watching them disembark from the Devastator in preparation to attend yet another celebratory ball in honor of Nelson’s victory.

Nelson himself was not even attending, having been invited to court, but that didn’t stop all the aristocracy and people of importance from having numerous parties and balls in his honor.

Piett would be very happy not to attend as well, but had been informed by the vice-Admiral that it would not do to have any senior officers from the Devastator missing and thus, he had polished his brass buttons on his rather worn blue dress coat and done his best to shine the bullion that lined the white front as well. At least he had a pair of clean white gloves and his hat was brushed impeccably. He knew this, having done that himself as well---Ozzel having not seen fit to approve his choice of steward. There was always a reason the one Piett picked didn’t seem to work.

He had flanked the rather stout Admiral along with the second Lieutenant, a man by the name of Kelly, and a number of Ozzel’s fellow Senior officers with the appropriate class background. He had been introduced, given nods that barely could be called polite, and then forgotten.

So, he stood to the side and watched the couples ranging the dance floor in an increasingly stifling room as he sipped his white wine. He did not intend to drink very much, knowing that his commander invariably would, and one of them needed to be clear headed for the sake of the crew and the ship.

He was thus afforded a very clear view of an unfortunate young lady nearby. She was perhaps someone’s niece or cousin and very clearly from a small country village, judging by her dress. While neat and pretty he supposed (he was a rubbish judge of women’s attire) she did not have the fashion of London about her. He saw the excited sparkle die slowly out of her eyes as she was overlooked three dances in a row, and that quite deliberately.

The last time he actually watched a young ensign look right at her and scoff before gesturing to his companions, and pointing at her quite rudely. The young lady flushed and he saw her tilt her head and do her utmost to have a stiff upper lip, but there was a suspicious gleam to her eyes that meant tears.

And _damn_ it. He was too old for this. He didn’t really dance all that much….

_ ….and if that were his daughter, he knew what he would appreciate. _

Piett set his glass on the tray of a passing waiter and moved to the young lady in order to bow and offer his hand.

“If you would do me the honor,” he said, and she looked at him in surprise, then in slow dawning gratitude as she took his hand.

It was happily a slower dance, and it allowed him time to speak with her.

“Thank you,” said the girl in a very clear west Somerset accent. “I do believe however, that it is proper to be introduced before one dances like this.”

He smiled as they did a turn and came back together. “How remiss of me. I am Captain Firmus Piett. And you are?”

She giggled and he thought she couldn’t be more than seventeen. “I am Alice Ludlow.”

“And what brings you to this dance this evening, Miss Ludlow? I trust you are not alone?”

“My aunt brought me. Lady Chester. But ah, she wishes to speak with her friends, and I rather hoped to dance. I’ve never been to London before you see,” she told him.

Yes, Piett was familiar with the situation. Young country relatives hoping to make advantageous marriages, visiting the better off aunts and uncles in the city.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the girl said as they moved in and out of the line of dancers.

“Oh yes?”

“I’m not here husband hunting. I just love dancing.”

He studied her and found truth in her earnest young face.

“Well,” he said thoughtfully as the music ended and all the dancers applauded. “Perhaps I can help there.”

He swiftly scanned the room and caught Kelly’s eye. He did not yet know his second Lieutenant very well, but he had struck him favorably. He led Miss Ludlow over to him.

“Lieutenant Kelly, Miss Alice Ludlow. Miss Ludlow, this is my second officer. I wonder, Lieutenant, if you could make sure that this young lady is not wanting for dance partners?”

Kelly raised his eyebrows at his Captain, but was quick to nod. “Yes, sir, it would be my pleasure. How do you do, Miss Ludlow?”

“Well, thank you,” she responded and then dropped a quick little curtsey to Piett.

“Thank you, sir. That was very gallant of you.”

Piett hoped the heat of the room hid the flush in his cheeks, and Kelly had a suspicious curl to his mouth.

“Not at all, Miss Ludlow. Have a lovely evening.”

He retreated to a table to find a glass of water, and was startled when a young voice sounded at his elbow.

“That was a very kind thing you did, Captain.”

He turned to see a very blonde young Commander regarding him with clear blue eyes.

“Not at all. It was the only decent thing to do.”

“And yet, I didn’t see anyone else doing the ‘decent’ thing, sir.”

Piett hummed noncommittally, and sipped his water to cover his discomfort.

“These functions can be very….cruel,” he said after a moment as they stood side by side and watched the bright colors and glittering jewels fill the room like large ungainly butterflies.

“Mm,” the younger man said in agreement. “We are such judgmental creatures aren’t we? And for the silliest things. I imagine for instance that this evening has been a bit of a punishment for you, Captain.”

Piett blinked. That was a slightly forward observation for a Commander to make to a Captain, but then, given that this young man was the first to speak to him all evening, he had a point. 

“What makes you draw that conclusion, sir?”

He noted that the younger man was very close to Piett’s own height, which was quite refreshing as the Captain was used to being on the shorter side of things whenever in company of other men.

“Well, you hide it supremely well, but I heard the trick of a Manchester accent there, sir. Am I right in thinking you come from that area?”

“You are,” Piett said calmly, not sure where this was going, but determined to face it with stalwart grace. How many times had he dealt with slurs to his background after all?

“I thought so,” said the Commander, looking pleased with himself. “But you sound very...dare I say, upper class? May I be impertinent enough to ask if you went to the Naval Academy in Portsmouth?”

Well. This young man didn’t miss much.

“I did,” Piett replied and yes, it had helped his career, but it had been several years of sheer torment for the young man without family connections. He had earned the money to attend himself, and then had worked exceedingly hard to disguise his origins in order to survive the persecution of not being a ‘gentleman’s’ son. 

Piett had no memories of his father as the man had died when he was three, but by most definitions of gentleman Piett was familiar with, his father had been one. 

Nonetheless he had defended this with his fists on three occasions, and had finally decided that if he didn’t want to be kicked out of the academy, he needed to keep his head down and do his utmost to blend in. So he worked on his accent and he was mocked unmercifully for it. But he was grimly determined and it was unlikely he would be stationed with any of his year. He could start anew with people who didn’t know what he had sounded like originally.

Eventually, he graduated with honors and was commissioned into his Majesty’s Navy.

“Very impressive, Captain,” and Piett was struck again with how self assured this young man sounded when speaking with a superior officer. He was not disrespectful, just easily confident, and that likely meant that he was quite secure in his own family connections.

“Where do you hail from?” he asked, probing gently.

“I was born in Surrey,” the Commander answered and yes, that likely meant property and a family home.

“But I did some honest labor and went to the Academy as well. I command the Artoona now.”

“A neat little frigate,” Piett said, placing his hands behind his back, and feeling more comfortable when discussing ships. “That would be in Admiral Lord Vader’s fleet would it not?”

“Yes, sir. And you?”

“I was just posted to the Devastator as her Captain.”

“Oh well! Congratulations then, sir, we’ll be serving together……” But at this juncture several other officers came up to confer with the young man and cast glances his way as they did so.

Piett smiled bitterly.  _ Yes, don’t sully one’s name by mingling with the riff raff. _

But he was surprised. The young man looked angry and moved slightly away from the others.

“Sir, I apologize, I am needed elsewhere. It was nice to speak with you, Captain…..”

“Piett,” he supplied, and the Commander shook his hand, seeming to almost enjoy the frowns of his companions. 

“I hope to see you again, Captain Piett. I’m Commander Skywalker.” 

And he was gone before that could fully register for Piett’s mind.

_ Skywalker…. _

It was an unusual name and the age was about right….

Ozzel bustled up with importance quivering through every hair of his moustache.

“I trust, Captain, that you were not making a nuisance of yourself to Lord Vader’s  _ son _ ?”

“No sir,” Piett replied as evenly as possible, “We did not speak long.”

So that was Admiral Lord Vader’s son. He was not what Piett would have expected.

“Recall your place,” hissed Ozzel. “Do not embarrass me, Piett!”

“I shall endeavor, sir,” Piett said, clenching his hands into fists behind his back, and watching as Ozzel moved away once more.

Feeling that it was finally too stifling in here, Piett decided enough was enough and made his way toward the terraces near the gardens.

He had nearly made it to his intended goal when a clear, commanding voice rose near him.

“I have already told you, Mr. Ketrrich, I am not interested in this dance. Now please let me pass.”

Piett paused. The voice sounded as though this was not the first time such a request had been made. 

He could see a knot of tall young men, some officers, surrounding….two of them moved enough and he saw a very petite figure dressed in white, looking into the faces of the hulking figures around her defiantly.

“Oh come now, my Lady, we all know how a woman likes to be coy. Dance with Sanders then.”

“I do not  _ wish _ to….!” 

Could the toffee nosed louts not hear her very real and emphatic negative? Good Lord but the upper classes could use some lessons in manners. 

Piett made his decision and stepped neatly into the group, holding out his gloved hand to the young lady. 

He really needed to stop making a habit of this. He was old enough to be a father to most of the young things at this event. On the other hand, the young men were largely asses, so he supposed it was up to him to have manners.

“My Lady,” he said directly and politely, “I apologize for my tardiness. I believe we had arranged for this dance?”

She stared at him with huge brown doe eyes for less than a beat before placing a tiny hand in his.    
  


“It was no trouble, Captain. Excuse us, gentlemen.” 

And he drew her with him through the now thunderous looking bunch and back toward the busy dance floor.

“I cannot thank you enough for that,” said the young lady, resting a practiced hand on his shoulder as they stepped into the dance. “I utterly hate these functions.”   
  


“May I find your companions after this dance and take you to them?” Piett asked, turning her slowly and coming back together.

“Possibly,” replied the girl. She had masses of rich chesnut hair piled in artful curls on her head. They tumbled slightly at the front to frame a heart shaped face which was dominated by those beautiful brown eyes. It was not surprising that she was much sought after. But a title had been mentioned….

“I am Lady Leia Organa Skywalker,” she said before he could ask. “Yes, Lord Vader is my Father, and yes, Commander Skywalker is my brother. I trust that you will not seek to leverage my position like the louts we just left.”

******

He looked appalled at the notion and she was reaffirmed in her decision to go with him.

“My Lady,” he said after a beat, “a gentleman does not use ‘leverage’ like that. He deals plainly and honestly.”

“I believe you,” she replied, and they smiled at each other. Leia liked what it did for his face. She studied him as they moved through the dance.

In his late thirties perhaps, lean countenance, browned by the sun, and large hazel eyes. Brown hair that was rebelliously trying to curl despite being tied back at his neck and pleasant lines at his mouth and the corners of his eyes. 

There was something about him that made her feel safe, and as he met her gaze briefly, she realized just how kind his eyes were.

“I fear I’m stepping all over your feet, my Lady,” he said, slightly awkwardly. “I must confess that I learned to dance at small country affairs.”

“Oh, Captain,” she said, “I would give a great deal to be dancing at one of those right now. I do love to dance you see, but this? This is all of us on show, and it's exhausting and dull.”

He nodded in understanding. “I feel precisely the same way. I do not envy a lady in your position. I can only imagine the challenges of navigating these shark infested waters.”

His mouth curled slightly, and one eyebrow raised at her.

_ Oh she liked him a great deal indeed.  _

“Have you ever met someone and felt as though you have known them for much longer than you really have?” she asked as they turned again.

“Not in a pleasant way,” he replied, giving her a quizzical look. “I hope you are not fatigued….”

She smiled at him warmly to dispel any concern. “I very much meant in a good way, Captain. I rather feel as though we have been friends for much longer.”

She saw his pleased startlement at that statement, but then the music ended and he bowed. “If you would direct me….” he began, but Leia had spotted Sanders looking her way and she turned to the Captain abruptly.

“Dance with me again,” she commanded, and that did get both eyebrows. 

“My Lady, I may be rather rough in knowing the protocols for these occasions, but I am reasonably sure I should not….”

“Please,” she said, “I am being hunted. I am rather hoping they will think you are one of my family members and leave me alone.”

Something she couldn’t identify crossed his face, but he smoothed it away and bowed slightly once more. “Then of course, I cannot leave you in such straights, my Lady.”

“Thank you, sir,” she responded as the instruments picked up a livelier tune for a reel and she could see that the officer was more apprehensive.

“Do you know the reel?” she asked as he took her in his arms once more. 

“I know  _ a _ reel,” he told her, “but I must confess that I am not a great dancer. I will of course do my best….”

“I will help direct us,” Leia told him firmly, and they set off.

The music was infectious and rather reminiscent (at least to Leia’s ear) of something one might hear aboard ship. She wondered if this Captain felt it too as his eyes seemed brighter. And yes, he was rougher in his movement here, but not terrible, and he was very quick to pick up her suggestions.

There was no breath to talk in this dance, but she was smiling widely as it finished and her joy even coaxed another small curl of the mouth for this naval Captain.

“You have been more than gallant, sir,” she said as he led her to a table with cold drinks. “I should know the name of my rescuer.”

He handed her a glass. “Captain Firmus Piett, of his Majesty’s Royal Navy, my Lady. It has been an honor.”

She studied him. She could hear that slight trick of an accent under the cultured tones he had cultivated.

“Where do you come from, Captain Piett?” she asked, taking a refreshing sip. She saw his minute hesitation and then he sighed very lightly.

“I was born and raised in Manchester, my Lady.” He said this in a resigned manner, and she realized that he was waiting for her to put him off now. She felt a strong flash of contempt for her own class that he was immediately expecting such treatment.

She deliberately slipped her hand over his arm and tugged gently. “I would very much like to hear why you joined the Royal Navy, Captain. It is warm in here, perhaps we could speak on the terrace?”

He was surprised and grateful she could see, but allowed himself to be drawn.

“I do not wish to bore you to tears, my Lady.”

She laughed as they at last reached the fresh air of the outdoors. Below in the gardens, other dancers were taking a turn to refresh themselves before returning to the festivities.

“I assure you, Captain, it is talk about the dreadfully mundane events in upper class society that does such a thing. I am an Admiral’s daughter. I would hear tales of the sea and ships.”

He waited for her to seat herself on a bench by the balustrade, and he leaned against the smooth stone.

“I….have always loved the ocean, my Lady. Growing up in a landlocked part of our country, I would dream of the day I could view it. I had a glimpse of the coast on one trip that I took to Liverpool as a boy. I fell in love with it then.”

She watched his face soften at the memory. 

“And you, my Lady? Aside from being an Admiral’s daughter, what draws you to the sea?”   
  


“Where it can take you,” Leia answered immediately. “I love that vast blue expanse, and all the things that may be just over the horizon in any direction. And I love the ships themselves, Captain. I cannot explain it. I have been on many of them, and I think I understand why sailors find their ‘ladies’ to be so very personal.”

He studied her a moment and smiled once more. “Your father must be very pleased to have two children so enamored of the sea."

And he couldn’t know that she was hardly acquainted with her Father, or he with her. She doubted he knew of her love for the sea.

Leia suppressed the pain this thought brought her and smiled at the Captain. “I’m sure he is, sir. I think it comes from both sides of the family, our love for exploring. My mother was apparently very capable of sailing herself.”

“Your mother…..was Padme’ Amidala, I believe?” he asked carefully.

“Yes. She died in childbirth. Luke and I are twins you see. It was….very hard.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” he told her.

An old ache and one that Leia was long familiar with. “Thank you,” she responded. “I must confess that some of my happiest hours of childhood were imagining her sailing a ship with my Father. I pretended to sail often myself on the pond.”

He nodded. “I did something similar as a boy on the streams near us. I confess to always wearing a stick as a saber.”

“Do you have children?” Leia asked. There was something about him that made her think that this was what a father should feel like.

His countenance was quite suddenly sad and he turned to gaze out at the shadowy gardens below, lit occasionally by flickering torches.

“I do not,” he replied.

“Family then? Someone you come home to after your deployments?”

He cleared his throat slightly and looked back at her. “No, my Lady. About fifteen years ago now, a terrible typhoid epidemic swept the south side of the city. My mother and two sisters did not survive that. I had just embarked on my first posting and….”

He trailed off as the memories loomed large. “You know how slowly the post travels. I learned of their deaths upon my return.”

Impulsively she put a hand on his arm.

“I’m so very sorry, Captain. You must get terribly lonely.”

_ Why had she said that? It was too personal, she had no right….. _

She was projecting how she would feel onto him. How she  _ did _ feel.

He sighed and stared down into his glass. “I suppose that’s true in a way, my Lady. But...I love my ships you see. I am not alone when my feet are on deck and the wind is in my face. That may sound a trifle silly to you, but….”

“Not at all,” she replied emphatically. “How I wish I had that recourse!”

He looked at her inquiringly. “Do you…..surely you cannot be lonely, my Lady, a woman such as yourself?”

“Thank you, Captain, but trust me when I say it is very possible to be quite alone in this position. My Father and brother are at sea. And I-----I am left here to play the role I was born to. How I wish I could join all of you!”   
  


_ Why was she telling him this? She had only ever shared this with Luke on his last leave.  _

But he was looking at her with compassion in his eyes.

“I am sorry, my Lady. Something tells me you would have made a fine officer.” 

He was not teasing, but he smiled and she returned it, suddenly feeling much better than a few moments before. 

“What is your ship, Captain? I might know her.”

“I have just been given command of the Devastator, my Lady.”   
  
_ Oh _ .

“Have you now?” she said aloud. “The Vice-Admiral’s flagship then? She’s lovely. Too bad the same cannot be said of her Admiral.”

And she knew it was impertinent but she despised the man, and already did not like the thought that this reserved and courteous Captain would be taking orders from such a class conscious oaf.

He tilted his head ever so slightly and carefully avoided comment on that. “She is lovely indeed. I look forward to seeing what we can do together.”

  
  
“You have met Admiral Ozzel then?” she pushed, and knew that he had from the way his expression became carefully blank. 

“I have,” he agreed.

“Then you know what an insufferable and pretentious ass he is already. I am saying it because I know that _you_ cannot.”

His eyes danced a little at that, and he placed his glass down to clasp his hands behind him.

“Very true, my Lady.”

“Are you agreeing with my statement, or the fact that you cannot say anything?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling now. He really had a very nice smile.

“Oh very well,” Leia returned, smiling back and rising. “Be the good officer then. I should return and find Luke. But I am sorry to end this conversation.” She took his offered arm, and they strolled back toward the brightly lit ballroom. A thought struck her, and she decided to voice it before she pondered it too much and became a coward.

“Captain…..how would you feel if I wrote to you? I only really have Luke at the moment and his letters are always so short. And Father….” she stopped. He did not need to know the pain she tried to bury concerning her aloof parent. 

“Ah, well, of course I would be honored, your Ladyship. I am not sure what I could write you about…..”

“Oh I am not asking for anything you ought not to share. I would just…..could you just describe your day? Make me see it as though I was there on the deck with you? I could escape for a little while you see, and imagine that I can hear the gulls or see the dolphins racing you.”

He looked down at her in understanding. “That I can do, my Lady.”

Then he stiffened, and it was as though he was bracing himself for battle. She followed his gaze just as the fruity overbred tones of an offended Admiral sounded.

“Piett!  _ What _ do you think you’re doing?”


	2. The Captain of the Devastator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett makes a friend and deals with the fallout of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so very encouraged by all the hits and kudos. Thank you all so much! This story has been a different and challenging process but goodness have I enjoyed it! Thank you for the support!

He could see the petite form next to him straighten, and then Ozzel was upon them, flanked by some other officials whom Piett did not recognize.

“Good evening, sir,” he said evenly. “I do not know if you have met the Lady….”

“Yes, yes, that is the whole _point_ , Captain!” Ozzel interrupted. “Your Ladyship I do apologize if you were in any way offended. Occasionally, our…. _country_ Captains need reminding of their place.”

He gave a fierce glare at Piett, and his companions chuckled at the insult. 

Piett took deep even breaths, and reminded himself that he was in the presence of a Lady even if the others were not gentlemen.

“I assure you, Admiral,” came her Ladyship’s sweet tones, “I was in no way offended by _Captain Piett._ He has been most gallant. It has made for quite a contrast with most other men present here this evening.”

There was no mistaking the very pointed look she speared Ozzel with, and then each of his friends in turn. 

Piett had no trouble admitting to himself that he enjoyed Ozzel’s slightly pained twitch of the eyelid.

“Well…..well...ah, your Ladyship, I would be most honored to escort you back to more….suitable company then,” the Admiral managed, holding out an arm in an attempt to contradict her statement. 

She looked at it as she might view a rotting corpse.

“Oh I don’t think so, Admiral Ozzel, _thank you_ . Captain Piett is a friend you see, so I am in very _suitable company_ indeed. Good evening.”

And she looked up at him expectantly. He bowed slightly to his superior officer who looked as though an apoplectic fit might not be too far off, and moved away with the Lady firmly attached to his arm.

“I do hope, Captain,” she murmured when they were suitably out of ear shot, “that I have not caused more trouble for you, but I cannot bear such awful rudeness.”

Oh, Piett had no illusions that he would pay dearly for this indeed, but it was worth it.

“My Lady, you referred to me as a friend to people who would never dream of doing so themselves. I can only thank you for that honor.”  
  


She looked up at him again.”I was not merely trying to humiliate Ozzel, though I confess that was delicious. I meant it, Captain, after this evening I consider you a friend. I do hope you might do the same for me.”

_She hoped he might….._

There was utter sincerity in her face.

“Of course, my Lady, but I must caution you. Admiral Ozzel and his like will give you great grief for such an acquaintance.”

_He did not wish to be the cause of any pain for this girl, barely more than a child._

“Captain.” She stopped near the grand staircase that led up to the massive entrance. “I think I am more aware than you are, of just what such people can and do say. I judge others on the content of their character----it makes no matter to me whether they were born in Manchester or in St. James Palace. My Father is himself from rather humble origins as most would deem them. People put that consideration aside when he married my mother and won his titles, but it remains true.”

He had not known that, and was surprised at how encouraging he found it. He also found new respect for Lord Vader. 

“Your Father is a most skilled and just commanding officer,” he told her as they ascended the staircase. "I am not aware of him promoting any who do not deserve it. Nor denying promotion for the same reason.”

“No,” she agreed, “I may not know him well as a Father, but I know how he is as a commander. I study the reports of his exploits, and talk over the fleet maneuvers with Luke when I can.”

He looked at her in some surprise and she smiled. “Captain, I would far rather discuss the best way to come into harbor in Naples, or when to tack in a north easterly storm, than the latest fashion in women’s hats.”

_Well, bloody, well. She was a delightful and refreshing marvel._

“Well then, your Ladyship,” he said with an answering smile, “shall I write to you of what I decide to do in a north easterly storm then?”

“Please do. Oh, Luke!”

Commander Skywalker was striding down the wide corridor toward them. 

“Shall I send the servant for our coats?” he asked as he reached them under the massive crystal chandelier.

“Yes, I think so,” she replied, and her brother summoned one of the footmen.

“And please retrieve Captain Piett’s as well,” he told the man. His sister looked at him, surprised.

“Oh, did you already meet then?”

Piett made another bow to the man in question, which Skywalker returned. 

“I had the pleasure earlier this evening,” Piett commented.

“How did you meet the Captain, Leia?” the younger man asked his sister.

“He saved me from John and Christopher earlier.”

“Did you now?” the Commander asked, turning to him. “Well you’re quite the white knight this evening aren’t you, Captain Piett?”

And that damned flush he got whenever a (rare) compliment was tossed his way, crept up his cheeks.

“I assure you, Commander, I was merely acting as a gentleman ought.”

“And _I_ can assure you, Luke, that there were precious few of those around tonight,” added her Ladyship as the footmen returned with their coats and cloaks.

“Captain,” she said, turning to him after her brother helped her situate the rich blue velvet over her shoulders, “Can we offer you a lift?”

He would already be paying very dearly for this evening. Arriving at the Devastator in the carriage of Lady Skywalker would only prolong the suffering.

“Most kind of you, but I must get back to my ship and that is out of your way. It is a fine evening, and I shall enjoy the walk. My Lady, Commander, a very good evening to you both.”

He turned before her Ladyship could force the issue. He saw a gleam in her eye and she was opening her mouth, no doubt to insist and he really needed to make his escape.

It was two miles down to the harbor. It would do him good.

  
  


*****

First Lieutenant Thomas Venka straightened slightly at his post as he spotted a diminutive figure making its way along the cobbled streets toward the docks.

_Well. Back much earlier than he had expected._

Venka was still deciding what to make of his new Captain. The man was very quiet and reserved---a far cry from the boisterous former Captain who had been transferred on Admiral Vader’s orders. It was not Venka’s to know the reasons why, but Ozzel had fumed for days and when Piett had come aboard, he thought the Admiral might really explode buttons off his waistcoat in fury. 

The Admiral had made no effort to hide his contempt for Piett’s origins, and had been just short of actively encouraging insubordination amongst the men for the slim Captain. 

That alone had rubbed Venka the wrong way, and he had privately decided to withhold judgment until they had been at sea for some time.

Regardless, the man was his Captain, and he was an officer of the British navy. Respect was owed if not necessarily merited.

“Bosun!” called Venka, and Baldwin stepped up. “Pipe the Captain.”

The broad shouldered Bosun lifted the pipe and sounded the notes clearly as Piett set foot on the gangway and made his way nimbly up to the ship.

_No drinking then_ , Venka thought, watching this with a practiced eye. _Or very little_. 

Just as well, given that Ozzel was known to imbibe rather generously.

Venka stood to attention, along with all the other men on deck as Piett stepped down onto the smooth boards.

Venka was rather proud of how pristine Devastator was after being a month in dock. She had not suffered much damage in their last encounter and so, to keep the crew busy, she had been scrubbed and painted and repaired to the very best standard possible. 

“Thank you, Venka,” Piett said, pausing to look around and nod at the Bosun, then run an assessing eye over the deck. “What’s the status?”

“All in order, Captain,” he reported, and then decided to be bold and test the waters so to speak. “A satisfactory evening I trust?”

Piett gave him a quick glance, and Venka could see that the man was weighing his response.

“It was….interesting, Lieutenant. But I confess that I prefer the company of the Devastator and her crew.”

Venka was aware that several of said crew were within earshot, and wondered if the Captain was merely seeking to ingratiate himself with them.

However, the little he had seen of Piett made him think the Captain was sincere. He did indeed seem relieved to be back aboard ship. He looked very smart in his full dress uniform, and it suddenly occurred to Venka that the Admiral had not yet approved Piett’s choice for a steward, which meant that he had prepared his attire himself.

Venka found himself impressed. Most Captains he had known would have had strong words about such a slight. Piett had merely carried on. He respected that. Further, he could do something about it, and perhaps aid the man in a small way. He was under no illusions that the first two months of Piett’s command were going to be the ‘testing’ phase and Ozzel would no doubt encourage it.

The Captain moved to the stairs and descended, no doubt to his own cabin.

“Mr. Scrapland!” Venka called, and the boy moved swiftly to his side, stumbling only slightly over his own feet.

_Like a newborn colt_ , Venka thought in resignation. But the midshipman was nice enough and eager to please.

“Would you be so good as to fetch some tea for the Captain? I rather suspect he could use a cup after being stuck with the toffs for so long.”

The young man grinned at him, and then quickly remembered his station and wiped the grin off his face.

“Yes, sir! Um, what shall I tell him, sir, if he asks why?”

Yes, Piett may be somewhat suspicious of any kindness at this point.

“Just say it was with the First Officer’s compliments, Scrapland.”

“Aye, sir.”

And he managed to make it below without falling down the stairs to the upper deck (which had happened twice in the past week, but the boy seemed to be made of rubber).

Scrapland was obscure enough to Ozzel, that he may not notice that he was serving the Captain for some time. Hopefully long enough to have it established, and therefore too awkward for Ozzel to change or disrupt without making him look as though he was overtly persecuting the Captain.

In twenty minutes time, Piett reappeared in his duty uniform and joined Venka on the quarterdeck. 

“Have you eaten your supper?” he inquired, after pacing around to inspect that all was as it should be.

“Ah, not yet, sir.”

“Well then, go on man, I shall finish the watch myself.”

Ozzel was pretentious enough to insist on an officer keeping watch even when in dock. Said it ‘looked better’. 

Venka raised his eyebrows. He had served under two captains as first lieutenant, and neither of them had given any thought to his well being except as he fulfilled his duties.

“Captain…”  
  


“I have the watch, Mr. Venka.”  
  


Piett had his hands behind his back and was standing as straight as the mast near him.

“The Admiral will be returning shortly, Lieutenant. He will expect that I should meet him.”

Piett didn’t miss much and it was a wise precaution.

“Aye, sir. You have the watch.”

He saluted and moved down toward the mess. It was just possible that Venka had found a good Captain.

  
  


****

Piett watched the carriage draw up just as three bells sounded in the middle watch. He had chosen his battle ground on the larboard side. He could have waited in his cabin it was true, but it seemed rather the coward’s way out, and this way he didn’t risk Ozzel’s wrath on any unfortunate junior officers caught up in his search for the Captain. 

He preferred all his battles on an open deck after all. 

He waited, head high, reminding himself that Nelson had made this appointment personally, and nothing that Ozzel could do would take that away.

Well. _Some_ things Ozzel could do, but it would require lying on the Admiral’s part, and Piett was determined to be as above board in every tiny action so as to give him nothing to work with. 

He had danced with the daughter of an Admiral this night, and subsequently made a friend with a delightful girl who cared two figs for his birth.

All these things he told himself as the Admiral stepped out of the carriage, along with Kelly and the other second lieutenant, Davis.

“Pipe the Admiral, if you please, Mr. Baldwin,” ordered Piett, and the Bosun and his side boys obeyed as Ozzel made his ponderous journey up the gangway, the junior officers slightly behind him and to the sides, clearly ready should he tilt too far either way.

Piett snapped a smart salute, the rest of the crew doing the same as Ozzel made it safely (if somewhat waveringly) onboard. 

“Sir. Welcome aboard!”

Ozzel stared at him, half heartedly returning the salute.

“Captain Piett.”

Piett straightened even further. “Sir.”

“Your behavior this evening was a disgrace, sir.”

Piett did his best to keep his countenance as blank as possible even though he knew the rest of the crew were listening and pretending not to. 

Baldwin was openly gaping at this statement, but Venka materialized from somewhere and frowned in his direction. The Bosun shut his mouth abruptly and immediately became wooden.

“Admiral,” the first Lieutenant said, “welcome back, sir.”

Piett wasn’t quite sure why Venka had returned to the main deck. Perhaps he was looking forward to the humiliating dressing down that Ozzel was delivering? But something about that didn’t seem quite right. 

If Scrapland was to be believed, it was the first officer who had sent him the tea, and Piett was deeply grateful.

“Mr. Venka.” Ozzel nodded but his predatory gaze was still on Piett.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Captain?”

Piett breathed out, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Sir, I am not sure to what you’re referring, Admiral. I am sure I did not intend to cause any offence, sir….”

“That is the trouble isn’t it, Piett? You have utterly no understanding of the finer qualities of class and rank.”

He had a finger in the Captain’s face and Piett stared ahead over the man’s broad shoulder, hoping the cockade on the Admiral’s hat wouldn’t hit him in the face given how close the man was standing.

He knew the expected answer, but it still galled him to give it. “Indeed, sir.”

Ozzel was warming to his topic.

“And making a nuisance of yourself with the _Skywalkers_ no less! You may be a post Captain for now, Piett. We all know the whims that Nelson can get. Mark my words---it will not _last_ . You do not have the background needed for this, and the Devastator has a far prouder tradition than _you_ could possibly bring!”

Piett felt the heat in his cheeks, and hoped the night was hiding it for him.  
  


Venka coughed.

“Admiral, would you like to go below, sir? I believe your steward has prepared some items for you sir, and your cabin is quite ready.”

Venka didn’t meet his eyes, keeping his gaze very respectfully and steadily on the Admiral.

_What was he doing?_ _  
  
_

Ozzel weighed this. He liked his creature comforts, and it was quite late indeed.

“Hrrm. Well, thank you, Mr. Venka. Captain Piett.”

“Sir.”

“You will finish this watch and the next.”

The injustice of that, not to mention that it was highly irregular in dock for an officer to stand the watch, weighed heavily on Piett’s chest.

“Aye aye, sir.”

Ozzel gave his customary little smirk and moved at last belowdecks.

Piett turned and made strides up to the poop deck, and eventually reached the stern. He was vaguely aware that Mr. Gherant was keeping the starboard watch, but he couldn’t bring himself to make any pleasantries at the moment.

_Damn, damn, damn, and damn._

It was Ozzel. It shouldn’t hurt the way that it did, but there it was. He took some deep breaths of the night air with all its London scents, and the muddy smell of the Thames.

_Do not let the crew see it bother you._

If he rose to the bait, it would be open season on him. He was under no illusions of that.

They would _not_ break him, damn them all. He had _earned_ this ship and his rank.

He straightened his coat and moved more slowly back up the deck to join Venka in front of the main mast. 

“Get some kip, Mr. Venka,” he told the man calmly. “And….thank you for the tea.”

He may have imagined the slight hesitation on the part of the first lieutenant, but he saluted and moved off with a quiet. “Aye, sir.”

“How are things, Mr. Baldwin?” Piett asked as the Bosun returned from the starboard.

“As sweet as I could wish ‘em, Captain. She’s eager to go, sir.”

“As are we all,” Piett said, running his eyes over neatly coiled cables.

The Bosun was rather clearly dying to ask him something.

“Something on your mind, Mr. Baldwin?” Piett asked mildly.

“Ah yes, sir, beggin’ your pardon. Just wondering if what the Admiral said was true, sir?”

Piett tightened his jaw.

“Which part, Mr. Baldwin?”

“Oh! Sorry, sir, none o’ the blather. That is….mmm, the insultin’ bits aside….”

Piett had pity on him.

“Yes, all right. Spit it out, man.”

“Did Nelson himself promote you, sir?”

The broad shouldered Welshman was all sincerity. No guile was to be found in the Bosun, Piett had been glad to discover.

“Yes, Mr. Baldwin, he did.”

“Well, that’s….were you in the Battle of the Nile then, sir?”  
  


Piett didn’t like to talk about it much. Yes it had been a spectacular victory and yes, Nelson was a brilliant tactician and commander. But it had cost them ships and men, and England seemed to have forgotten that families were mourning in her happy haze of glory.

“I was, Mr. Baldwin. Will there be anything else?”

Baldwin picked up the hint.

“No, Captain. Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Bosun.”


	3. The Colonel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Devastator takes on a contingent of Marines and their Colonel sizes up the ship and the Captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should you ever need help visualizing these big beautiful ships--I highly recommend that you Google pictures of Nelson's ship, Victory. She is a first rate, which was the biggest kind of ship of the time and carried the most guns.  
> Or if you have seen Master and Commander or perhaps the Horatio Hornblower mini-series, you could get good idea of how life on board ship was with the HMS Surprise or the Indefatigable. 
> 
> As always, folks, thank you so very much for reading and indulging my joy in the world of tall ships and Skywalkers. ;)

_ To Lady Leia Organa Skywalker _

_ 7 October 1799 _

_ HMS Devastator _

_ Nassau, Bahamas _

_ Madam, _

_ It was a great pleasure to receive your letters. Three in one go was a delight and great refreshment I assure you. You are, of course, familiar with how long it takes to receive post, but we put in at last to Nassau, and spent five days there, replenishing our supplies and allowing the crew some time ashore.  _

_ Happily in that time a ship put into port with a great amount of correspondence for several of His Majesty’s ships, and Devastator was one of them. _

_ You have been busy indeed, my Lady. I chuckled at your amusing anecdote regarding Lord Kittrich, and could picture it quite clearly. Do you imagine he will be able to show his face in society for some time? _

_ I have not yet seen your Father in person, to answer your query, but then White Squadron is quite large and my understanding is that we are to rendezvous with your Father’s ships in two days time from writing. I hope you understand I cannot say where at this time. _

_ I did have the very great pleasure of seeing your brother, Commander Skywalker, when he came to dine aboard the Devastator. Have you been aboard the Artoona yourself, my Lady? She’s a well put together little frigate, and it was a pleasure to see the Commander handle her so very adroitly. _

_ You are very kind to inquire, and I assure you I am in good health. It has been challenging indeed as we are in some manner of shake down cruise with a new Captain and a great deal of new crew that need experience and discipline. But I am confident we shall get there. _

_ I thought of you a week before we arrived here. I was standing on the quarterdeck while we ran the gun drills, and quite suddenly a pod of dolphins appeared. They almost seemed to be daring our men to hit them, but they are far too intelligent a creature to allow it to happen, lest you worry.  _

_ I do wonder if they thought it was a game of some sort that we humans were playing, as they appeared to me to be laughing at us. Certainly I can think of a few acquaintances with a similar high pitched cackle. _

_ As of yet, no engagements. Naturally, I could not tell you much of them if there were, but the French seem to be hiding their craven faces for the moment. I confess to feeling torn about that. On the one hand, it gives us more time to become a unified and effective fighting force. But it delays the battle experience our new crew need in particular. Drills are one thing. The reality is another.  _

_ I must end now. I will write as often as I am able, my Lady, but I am afraid I have very little time to myself. Nonetheless I shall do my best and remain as ever,  _

_ Your obedient servant, _

_ Firmus Piett _

  
  


Leia put the letter in her lap and stared out at the blustery English November from the warm sitting room. It was one of her favorite places in Amidala House. It was the smallest sitting room in the vast house, and had a set of doors that led directly to the stunning gardens--now hiding their glories for winter. 

The fire place was large, and currently holding a very cheerful blaze, which was most welcome as she watched the rain thump down to the earth as though gravity was heavier today.

But her mind was on sunny skies and tropical heat. She was very glad to get news of Luke for she had as of yet received no letters from her brother. He would, she knew that, but they would be brief missives. It was best when they were together and then he would tell wonderful stories. She missed him dearly.

Her Father had sent a brief note to let her know that he and her brother were well, and that the fleet had seen some action in the south Atlantic. She checked the dates. The conflict would have taken place two weeks after Piett had written. 

Lord Vader had also informed her that unless orders changed, they were to put in at Portsmouth in four weeks' time to re crew and then set off again, this time to patrol the coast of Spain.

Leia could guess. She had been paying attention to the movements in the war. The French, after their sound defeat from Nelson, were becoming increasingly desperate on the sea as on land. They may attempt an alliance with Spain. 

Leia tapped a finger to her lips as she considered her plans.

Because she was very done with waiting on the sidelines. The sea was in her bloodline and she was more than ready to embrace it. 

Four weeks.

It was less time than she had hoped for to get her cover plans in place, but it was doable. She must make her servants believe she was going to stay at the Skywalker London residence indefinitely. She would establish the idea that she was not well so that society in general would not wonder at her sudden disappearance. 

To that end, she had sworn her maid to secrecy and would use the girl to impersonate her, shrouded in a cloak and hat, in order to travel to London. 

Meanwhile, Leia herself would go to Portsmouth.

As a boy.

She considered the long curl of hair in her hand and felt a pang.

Still, sacrifices must be made to play the part. And she would be a very promising young crewman indeed.

And she would serve on the Devastator.

  
  
  


*****

Colonel Maximilian Veers of the 5th Marines, wiped his brow yet again under the hot African sun. The glare from the water didn’t help at all, and was contributing to a roaring headache. He and his men had received orders, and were posting to the Devastator while Lord Vader’s fleet was briefly in harbor to resupply their water. 

From there it was on to England and then back out again to engage the French near the Spanish coast.

He squinted out at the mighty second rate, at anchor a mile off shore. She was certainly a damn sight bigger than the last vessel he had been on, may her remains and that of her crew rest in peace.

Veers and what were left of his marines had escaped the encounter that destroyed their ship, and had now been in Africa for two months. He was eager to be aboard ship once more and that was not something he had felt before.

Veers was a marine, through and through, but he was not fond of the water. He was reasonably sure that no one knew this, but it was true. He was much more at ease fighting battles on land. However, he did his duty above all else, and if that meant extended time on board ship, he could handle it. 

The boats to take them out to Devastator were nearing at last, and he called out to his sweating men.

“Look sharp! I want this to go as swiftly as possible. Lieutenant Stephens! You and your men are first. They will be followed by Lieutenant Hale and his men. Then…”

And on until he finished the order, and his men lined up neatly on the beach.

Veers himself was last, in order to make sure all was as it should be.

“Quite a sight sir, ain’t she?” Sergeant Ellery said at his elbow as the seamen rowed back toward the ship of the line.

“She is,” Veers agreed. He could see more ships anchored nearby, and a little further up the coast, the last of Vader’s fleet was loading water supplies.

“The Vice Admiral’s flagship, Colonel, is that right?” Ellery asked quietly.

“Yes, Sergeant, but we’re Marines no matter which ship we serve upon, yes?”

“Yessir.”

“Then let us not be overly excited about the rank of the officer we’re serving under.”

Suitably rebuked, the big man stilled his questions, and Veers gave a cool stare to the young midshipman in the bow of the boat who was watching Ellery in some amusement.

Then they were at the ship and Veers scrambled up the rope ladder with practiced ease. He hoped none of his men had disgraced themselves climbing it---he was aware that some of them were young and had only ever boarded a ship from a gangway before. 

His men were all assembled on the main deck, and he looked up to the quarterdeck where indeed the Captain and his officers were watching them come aboard. 

If the Admiral was present, Veers didn’t see him.

The Captain moved smoothly down the stairs to meet him and Veers was struck by his slight stature. He easily had six inches on the man, maybe more.

“Colonel Veers, sir, we are glad to have you aboard.” He held out his hand and Veers grasped it firmly. “Captain Piett at your service. This is my first officer, Lieutenant Venka. My second, Lieutenant Kelly. And my third officer, Lieutenant Davis. The Admiral sends his regrets that he could not meet you right away. He is quite busy at the moment.”

The first officer gave his Captain a swift and unreadable glance at that statement, but Piett’s carefully polite mask didn’t slip. 

Veers was very good at recognizing masks. He wore one himself, constantly, and it had become exceedingly easy to do so after Myra and Zev had died from scarlet fever. 

This Captain was a master----he could tell right away. But the shadows beneath his eyes were too pronounced, and the way he held himself was admirably straight to the average observer. To Veers’ eyes however, it seemed he was holding himself up, as though he might collapse should he allow his posture to relax for even one second. 

Well. That was interesting, and he wondered what was causing Captain Piett to look so haggard.

He got his answer.

“Why was I not informed that the marines had arrived?” came a pompous voice, and an individual who could only be the Admiral emerged from the quarterdeck and made his ponderous way down to them.

“I am to be informed immediately, Captain Piett, of all such happenings. I am tired of repeating myself, sir!”

“My apologies, Admiral,” said the Captain in a polite voice that still somehow managed to convey the idea that he was well used to being harangued.

It was also clear that the Admiral had given no such order judging by the faces of all the lieutenants.

“Where is the officer in charge?”

Veers felt this was either obtuse, or deliberately insulting given that he was right there in his unmistakable colonel’s uniform.

“Colonel Maximilian Veers, Admiral,” he said, giving his full name. 

Ozzel held out his hand regally and Veers gripped it, enjoying the fact that the man winced slightly. 

“Veers? Of the Cambridge Veers’s?”

_ He was one of those class conscious berks then. Veers had joined the marines, in part, to get away from that. _

“That is correct, Admiral.”

“Well,” Veers could visibly see the man puff out his chest. “Kendall Ozzel. Of the Kent family. We are practically neighbors, sir!”

“Quite,” Veers said briefly.

“Now then. Have you been given instruction on your berths and your cabin?”

“I was about to do so, Admiral,” said Piett.

Ozzel gave him a contemptuous look.

“Apologies, Colonel. Captain Piett has only just posted to a ship of the line. Some things are apparently more difficult here.”

Piett lifted his chin, but said nothing. Those hazel eyes flashed though, and Veers wondered for the first time how Piett had indeed come to captain the Devastator. Surely he couldn’t be that inept? On the other hand, Ozzel had been made a vice Admiral…..

Well. Veers did not make snap judgments either way.

“Get to it then, Captain. Make sure they are all aware of the ship’s running by supper. I would be honored for you to join me, Colonel.”

Veers inclined his head. “Most kind, Admiral.”

_ And what a vista of punishment that would be this evening. _

Accordingly, Piett and his officers made sure the marines were clear on their berths as well as the duty schedules, and the times they could train on the main deck.

“Your cabin is here, Colonel,” Piett told him, personally showing him to his quarters. They weren’t large, but they were comfortable and had everything Veers needed.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Do you have your own servant, sir, or shall I appoint one for you?” the other man asked, still so very straight, hands behind his back and head tilted politely.

“I am not accustomed to needing one, Captain Piett.”

“One of our midshipmen would be most happy to, Colonel. I think you might find one useful on board ship, sir. Help to get you accustomed to the Devastator more swiftly.”

“This is not my first posting to a ship of the line, Captain.”

Veers gave him the cold stare that had many a young officer sweating bullets.

The man raised an elegant eyebrow at him. “Indeed, Colonel, I did not assume so. But this is the vice Admiral’s flagship, sir, and I may suggest that having someone accustomed to her running may aid your transition.”

Hmm. He may have a point given the display Veers had seen out on the quarterdeck.

“Very well. Thank you, Captain.”

“Your servant, sir.”

Piett bowed slightly, and then he was gone. 

Some time later Veers emerged at eight bells to see clouds gathering on the horizon. Piett was standing on the poop deck next to his first officer, and both were clearly discussing the gathering gloom in the offing. 

Veers moved to join them and had reached the quarterdeck when a young midshipman came from below carrying a pewter mug, and stumbled slightly at the top of the stairs. He righted himself and then walked with a coltish energy toward the same stairs Veers himself had just ascended. 

The Colonel therefore had a fine view of the unfortunate events that unfolded moments later as the Admiral exited his quarters to coincide with the young officer reaching the quarter deck. The boy was clearly heading for the poop, but couldn’t stop himself in time and collided with the Admiral, splashing the beverage (tea?) down the Admiral’s uniform.

“Good gods!” roared the Admiral. “What the bloody hell did you think you were doing you utter blunderbuss?”

“Admiral, sir, I’m so very sorry,” stuttered the poor unfortunate boy, and suddenly Piett had materialized next to them. Veers hadn’t even seen him descend from the poop and was impressed with his speed.

“You complete incompetent  _ scrub _ !” Ozzel snarled.

“Are you much hurt, sir?” Piett inquired calmly, placing a comforting hand on the midshipman’s shoulder and moving him ever so slightly out of Ozzel’s reach.

And Veers scored a point for the man. He looked out for his subordinates.

“Am I….? It’s _tea_ , Piett! It was bloody hot, but I shall be all right! No thanks to _you_ , you great jack a napes! Why the hell were you bringing tea up here in the first place?”

The young officer looked swiftly to his Captain, then straightened slightly and opened his mouth.

Piett beat him to it.

“It was for me, sir. I asked Scrapland for some.”

Ozzel glared.

“You did eh? Make sure you never do so again, Captain. You are not to be eating or drinking on deck is that understood?”

Veers observed the first Lieutenant above them grip the rail until his knuckles were white. The man’s lips were compressed tightly, and Piett seemed to sense this. He glanced up and shook his head ever so slightly.

“And you!” Ozzel swung on the poor boy once more. “What’s your name, you oaf?”   
  


“Scrapland, Admiral,” the midshipman said, straightening, though clearly frightened.

“Well, Mr. Scrapland, I hope you realize I could have you up on striking a superior officer for this.”   
  


The boy looked as though he might faint. Veers frowned. Surely he didn’t mean he would actually….

“Sir,” Piett may be the shortest officer in the group, but he radiated calm command in this moment. “It was most clearly an accident. I am certain that Mr. Scrapland had no intention of raising a hand or a tea cup to you.”

_ Was that a jibe…..? _

But Piett’s face was carved from very serious stone. Nonetheless, Veers was rather certain there was something in that tone, particularly as Venka twitched his lips very suddenly and, seeing Veers watching him, went still.

“Be that as it may, he is a horrifically clumsy liability. I think a spell in the rigging should teach you some self control, Mr. Scrapland!”

The boy was utterly white and Veers saw that Piett was near enough to him that their sleeves touched.

The midshipman glanced down at his Captain, and seemed to draw strength from his presence.

“Yes, sir. I do apologize, Admiral….”

Ozzel waved a dismissive hand. “See to it, Captain. First watch. All of it. I shall know if he comes down one second too early.”

“Yes, sir,” Piett replied without a word of protest, and Veers was uncertain again what to think of this man. 

Ozzel returned to his cabin to change, and Piett met Veers’ eyes.

“There’s a bad storm coming,” the Colonel remarked. “That will not be very pleasant.”

“Better than the Admiral invoking the articles, sir,” managed the unfortunate Scrapland.

“All right now, enough from you, Mr. Scrapland,” said Piett mildly, bending to retrieve the empty mug. “Get below and get something to eat. You’ll need it.”   
  


“Aye, sir,” the boy said, taking the mug and moving off in that same manner, his long legs quite ahead of him.

“Rather harsh on the boy, don’t you think, Captain?” Veers pushed.

“What I think is not important, sir,” Piett responded quietly, staring out at the increasingly dark clouds. “I am grateful his punishment was not worse.”

“He was bringing the tea at your request, man. Surely that merits some defense?” Veers knew he would have done so for one of his men.

Piett speared him with a look that Veers wasn’t sure how to interpret. 

“I would happily give my life for my crew, Colonel. However, I would ask that you trust that I know well how things run on this ship. I would not wish this for Mr. Scrapland. However, given that the Admiral could have had him flogged, or as you saw, invoked the Articles, this is a reprieve.”

Veers was stunned.

“He surely wouldn’t….”

He trailed off at Piett’s expression. 

“I must return to my duties, Colonel.”

“Will I see you at supper?” Veers asked.

“I am afraid I will have to forgo that pleasure, sir. Much to do here.”   
  


“Good afternoon then, Captain.”

“Colonel.”

  
  


****

Somehow Veers couldn’t forget the incident, and wondered how the young man was faring all through the tedious supper with Ozzel.

The Admiral insisted on after dinner port and cigars, and Veers was ready to climb out of his skin by the time they reached a point where he could politely excuse himself. 

He had noted the increasing bad weather and wondered where the Captain was. Had he had a break for his own supper? His first Lieutenant had seemed most put out when Ozzel had decreed no food or drink on deck, and Veers had the growing suspicion that he was deliberately seeking to make things difficult for the Captain. He was not entirely sure why, but he could guess.

He made his way out to the quarterdeck and was immediately struck by the chill. The rain was driving down in sheets. The storm was not bad as storms at sea went, but it would be deeply unpleasant to be stuck out in it for hours on end, especially up in the rigging. Veers made it back to his cabin and flung his heavy red cloak over his shoulders before retrieving his more casual grey one. 

Someone needed to look out for the boy.

He returned to the deck, and squinted up into the rigging on the larboard side of the main mast. He couldn’t see any figures and turned his attention to the starboard side. 

There.

He could just make out two figures up in the rigging.

He made his way over, and realized there was another figure watching them from the deck.

“Captain!” He shouted, and Piett turned to him in surprise.

“How did he hold on all this time? His hands must be numb!” Veers told him.

He couldn’t see the other man’s face very well in the night.

“In such cases, Colonel, we tie the man to the rigging!” Piett shouted back. “So he won’t fall to his death on the deck or in the sea!”

Well that was barbaric. Veers realized that this was common practice in the navy. He had just never personally seen it done.

Of course, he reflected, the marines had equally harsh punishments.

The two figures were making their slow way down, and as they reached the deck, Veers recognized the Bosun.

“There ye are lad,” the big Welshman said, supporting a shuddering Scrapland, and Piett was flinging his own cloak over the boy’s shoulders. Veers added his, and he didn’t mistake the look of gratitude the Captain shot him. 

“Bosun!” he called over the rain, “If you could retrieve some extra dry clothes for Mr. Scrapland and come to my cabin, I would appreciate it!”

“Aye, sir,” the man replied, and then Piett turned to Veers.

“If you would be so good as to help me get him to my cabin, sir….”

“Certainly!”

He slid an arm around the boy and Piett supported his other side, and between them they made it to Piett’s quarters.

The midshipman was definitely in the early stages of hypothermia, but as Veers helped the Captain lower him to the bench by the windows, he realized that Piett was prepared.

“Grab those towels,” he ordered tersely as he removed Scrapland’s shoes and stockings and Veers came to help him.    
  


Between them they had the boy stripped and towelled just as the Bosun knocked and entered with a spare shirt and trousers. 

“I’ll take the wet things, shall I sir? Cook won’t mind if I hang em to dry down in the galley.”

“Thank you, Mr. Baldwin,” Piett responded, helping the shivering officer get into the too big shirt. “There you are Matthew. Now then, Colonel if you would assist me, we’ll get you to bed, Mr. Scrapland, and with any luck you won’t have a cold tomorrow.”

“Where…?” Veers began and realized that Piett meant to give the young man his own hammock.

Piett was giving him a look that dared him to question this as they maneuvered the half conscious boy into the hammock, and Piett reached around him to maneuver what Veers realized were hot bricks wrapped in cloth, and then the blankets.

“Sss-sir,” Scrapland managed through chattering teeth, raising a shaking hand to grasp at the Captain’s sleeve. “I’m ss--ssorry.”

Piett gently moved his hand back under the covers. “Nothing to be sorry for, Mr. Scrapland. Try to sleep.”

And Veers followed him back into the main cabin where Piett was taking off his own wet duty jacket to hang on a chair.

“And where will you sleep, Captain?” he asked, looking around.

“I can stretch out on the window bench,” Piett answered, lowering himself stiffly into a chair and motioning for Veers to do the same.

Veers studied the lean and weary face in front of him.

There was much he wished to ask this man, but he rather thought he could read things better now. He considered his words carefully.

“I think, Captain, I may owe you an apology.”

Piett raised his eyebrows. “Indeed?”

“I insinuated you were not defending your men. I….understand the position more now. So. I apologize. I misjudged you.”

Piett looked at him for a moment, and Veers felt himself weighed.

“Thank you, sir,” he responded after a moment. “Things are….challenging aboard the Devastator. There is a careful balance we must all walk. We are, of course, officers in His Majesty’s navy and we will behave as such very strictly. Every man aboard obeys the Admiral’s orders.”

He was giving Veers an intent stare.

_ Yes indeed they followed orders. But they could strive to alleviate those orders where they could, considering who was giving them. _

“Understood, Captain.”

A quick knock and Piett called ‘come!’

A lieutenant Veers recalled meeting earlier, entered carrying something over one arm as well as a kettle.

“Mr. Baldwin’s compliments, Captain, and he sent up water for tea and another blanket, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr Kelly,” Piett replied, rising to get supplies from a drawer. 

“Sir, I was to make sure you knew the blanket is for you, Captain. Mr. Baldwin was very insistent.”

Piett paused to look at the younger man. Veers learned much about the Bosun in that moment. Very good. An ally then. For the Colonel had already decided that this man before him was one worth his time and consideration. And he couldn’t think of a time that he had felt that way about a naval officer.

“Ah, thank you, Kelly. Dismissed.”

Piett made them tea neatly and efficiently, and then both of them sat with hot mugs in their hands to assess each other.


	4. Forging a Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veers and Piett solidify their new found respect into friendship. And Admiral Lord Vader appears on the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much respect for those who commanded these tall ships in battle. Today, we turn the wheel and a battleship turns. Slowly, sure, but that's how it works.  
> Then, you had to account for the wind and it could be for or against you. Regardless, you had to go into battle and make life or death decisions based on your ship's size, how many sails you had set, the amount of crew who could carry out orders to change direction.....  
> Well.  
> It was impressive. :) 
> 
> Please enjoy!

“So,” said the Colonel after a few sips. “You are in an interesting position. Given what I saw of him tonight, the Admiral knows very little of commanding a vessel like this outside of the prestige it gives him.”

And he nailed it in one, but such talk could get one hauled in front of a firing squad faster than saying ‘Jack Robinson’.

“I am not at liberty to say so, Colonel,” Piett answered cautiously, appreciating the warmth of the tea in his hands.

“I realize that, Captain, which is why I did.”   
  


Piett looked into grey eyes that were considerably warmer than they had been when Veers first came aboard.

“Why did you come out to the deck tonight, sir?”   
  


“I should have thought that was obvious. I wished to check on your young midshipman there. But I clearly misjudged you badly as I did not expect to find  _ you _ there.”

Piett pondered this. In his experience, the marines kept to themselves for the most part--there was not a great deal of love between them and their naval counterparts.

“Well. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Glad to be of service. And I would like to know more about a Captain who gives up his bed to a midshipman.”

Piett shrugged. “I should think that was obvious. Mr. Scrapland was punished for seeking to do me a kindness. The least I can do is assist him to get warm.”

“Do you not have a ship’s doctor he could go to?”

“We do,” Piett answered, “but that would be noted, and the Admiral may hear and disapprove.”

The Colonel nodded, considering this. 

“I see. You didn’t ask for that tea did you?”

Piett was impressed. The man didn’t miss much.

“I did not. But better to say I had…”

“Less severe consequences, yes I see,” Veers finished thoughtfully. “Is the Admiral always so punitive?”

_ How to answer that? _

But his face must have betrayed something as Veers snorted.

“So you are left in the position of defending your crew from a capricious leader who, if he’s so inclined, could bring any of you before a firing squad. Good lord, I wondered why you looked so exhausted.”

Piett gave him a look and the man laughed. It was a good laugh and Piett found himself liking this marine Colonel.

“I’m not trying to be insulting, Captain. Just facts. Look here, I think I like you---and that’s saying something coming from a life long Marine. Practically  _ betrayal _ to have positive thoughts about the navy.”

Piett smiled. “I was having similar thoughts.”

Veers grinned at him.

“I think we need to try introductions again. Max Veers, Colonel in His Majesty’s Royal Marines.”

The man stood and Piett didn’t like feeling towered over. Of course, even when he rose he was still far shorter than Veers.

“Firmus Piett, Captain of His Majesty’s vessel, Devastator.”

They shook hands, and Piett couldn’t help but feel that something significant had happened.

  
  


****

Venka observed Ozzel step on deck several days after they had brought their marines on board. They were rendezvousing with Admiral Vader’s fleet off the Portugeuse coast, and word had reached them of strong French naval presence in the area. 

Piett was thus running a very tight and alert ship indeed. 

However, this was not going over well with the Admiral, who felt that such caution was overrated, mostly because Ozzel was keen to be back in the comforts of England, and taking the time to run gun drills slowed him down. 

And he had been dismayed when he received Vader’s orders to join them near Aljezur as this would undoubtedly add another day, possibly two, to their sailing. 

Venka watched his Captain salute the Admiral as he joined him on the quarterdeck. The Admiral gave a dismissive wave and barely looked at Piett, though he expected him to follow at his heels.

Venka pressed his lips together. He had decided some time ago that he was Piett’s ally here. If Ozzel couldn’t see a competent commander when he was right under his nose, that was not Venka’s problem. Piett was his captain and that was all. To see him so regularly brushed aside or over run made the first Lieutenant’s blood boil. 

Feeling eyes on him, Venka looked down at the main deck and realized that the marine colonel, Veers, was watching him keenly. He turned to his Sergeant, a giant man whose name Venka didn’t know, and then made his way toward the first Lieutenant with purpose.

_ Well, what was this going to be about then? _

Veers was very tall and Venka didn’t consider himself short. He cut quite an imposing figure in his red jacket with the gold epaulettes gleaming in the afternoon sun which was bravely trying to peek through the gathering clouds.

“Lieutenant Venka, I believe?” Veers said, standing near him and also watching the Admiral and the Captain confer.

“That is correct, Colonel Veers.”

“I wondered if perhaps you could help me understand a few items, Lieutenant.”

“Perhaps, Colonel. That depends.”

“It’s about the Captain.”

_ This marine had better remember he was on His Majesty’s  _ **_naval_ ** _ vessel, by God, or Venka would remind him. _

“And you cannot ask Captain Piett himself, because…..?”

“Because he is not the sort of man to share his troubles, and what I want to know is not something I think he would answer.”

Venka was feeling rather offended.

“And you think that  _ I _ would betray something….?”

Veers angled a cool glance at him. “I am not seeking to cause offence, sir. I am seeking to understand the situation aboard this vessel, lest it become a danger if and when we see action.”

_ Interesting _ .

“I will answer if I feel it will be in line with naval protocols and will not cause the Captain any trouble.”

Veers allowed himself a small smile at that. “Hmm. That helps me on one count. You are the Captain’s first Lieutenant then, Mr. Venka?”

It was a seemingly obvious question, but Venka heard the slight stress on  _ ‘Captain’s’ _ and wondered if he and Veers would be able to come to an understanding here. 

“I am, sir.”

“That is well. Captain Piett strikes me as a competent man-- fair to his crew would you say?”

“I would, Colonel. I have served with him only four months, but that has been enough.”

Veers nodded. “And Devastator’s previous Captain----was he from….privilege? Background?”

Venka frowned slightly. “I believe so, but am unsure why it matters.”

“Captain Piett is from Manchester, I’m given to understand from the Admiral.”

_ Damn Ozzel and his elitist snobbery. _

“I do not see why we are discussing this, Colonel,” Venka said as coldly as possible. 

Veers did not look at him, but watched the Admiral finish speaking with Piett who visibly straightened his spine and turned to give orders to the men at the wheel.

“I wish to know if the Admiral’s clear contempt for his Captain is due purely to his class arrogance or if there is something that has happened between them. Because it is apparent to me and my men that your Admiral would see Piett off this ship by any means, possibly including shoving him over the rail.”

Venka blinked.

Well. No one had ever put it that bluntly before, but this marine Colonel had nailed it.

How to answer however? Venka may appreciate that Veers understood the situation, but Piett was very clear on naval discipline, and respecting the articles of war, and Venka did not wish to display any contempt for a superior officer, however he may feel it was merited.

“I believe that Admiral Ozzel is from a very old family, sir,” he settled upon and hoped that Veers could hear his answer in that.

_ His class arrogance would have us fitted and crewed with a bunch of silver spoons and addle pates. _

The marine officer nodded.

“Thank you Mr. Venka. That helps me understand a great deal.”

He turned without any further ado and made his way back to his men, leaving Venka with a great deal to digest as the first drops from the sky began to spit down.

Had he just found an unexpected ally in Veers? That could indeed prove useful. Oh Venka was no where  _ near _ mutiny. But he had determined to do his damndest to keep Piett as the Captain of the Devastator for the sake of all the men aboard her. Serving with Ozzel was like death by a thousand cuts, and Venka wanted to mitigate that as much as possible.

And it seemed he wasn’t alone.

  
  


****

Piett watched the signal from the Executor. The rain was making things difficult, and he damned it fervently in his head.

As it was the flagship he was taking the telescope himself, rather than wait for the signal midshipman to rattle it off to him. 

“No. 11. Three French frigates sighted,” he said aloud to Kelly who was at his elbow. “We are to come into the bay from the larboard, block their escape.”

He handed the telescope to Kelly and barked at Venka.

“Turn up the hands!”

Venka in turn gave the order and Ozzel strode out, placing his hat on hurriedly.

_ Did the man have to wear all his ribbons every time he appeared? He was no bloody Nelson. _

“Sir,” Piett said, saluting. “Lord Vader has sighted the enemy sir, and is ordering us in from the larboard.”

“Well then make all speed, man,” growled Ozzel. “We must be as quick as possible.”

“Sir, we’re running before the wind. We are making excellent speed.”

“Then why aren’t all sails set? Set tops’ls!” roared the Admiral and Piett tried to keep any shock off of his face.

  
  
“Sir that will bring us in at speed. We may overreach, Admiral.”

Ozzel whirled on him. “We are in the British navy, Piett. When our Fleet Admiral calls, we answer as swiftly as possible. Set tops’ls.”

Good Lord was he really such a fool? Piett knew the distance and could feel the windspeed. He wasn’t sure they would be able to slow in time, but he gave the order, ignoring Kelly’s wide eyes, and Venka’s indrawn breath near him. 

Ozzel strutted pompously.

As they neared, Piett considered his options. He could see the frigates making their bid for freedom. At this rate, they would collide. He couldn’t turn starboard, lest he run into their own ships.

“Load and run out the guns if you please, Mr. Venka,” he rapped out. He put the telescope to his eye again, as Venka roared the order and Piett could hear the gun carriages slam into position against the hull a deck below.

Bloody hell. This was going to be ridiculously close and if Lord Vader was watching he must be wondering at their reckless flight toward the enemy when they would be in a better position had they left time to tack and come between the lead French ships. 

_ Devastator was a second rate. She was built for power not maneuverability.  _

But the first frigate was in range….

“Fire a shot over her bow, Mr. Gherant!”

Gherant gave the order and all the drills paid off, the shot just clipping the very tip of the bowsprit.

The French ship turned, but they were on her and now was the time…

“Bring her to!” yelled Piett and the men obeyed; the Devastator straining against this leash as she slowed and Piett was watching the lines on the foresail and the mainsail. He could hear the creak of their complaint, but the Bosun took good care of the lines and he felt the moment he had won and the ship obeyed.

“Fire broadside!” Piett commanded and Devastator answered in a rolling barrage, living up to her name as she reached the lead frigate. 

The frigate was lowering her colors and turning back into the shore.

“Furl tops’ls!” ordered Piett immediately, not wanting to risk them catching the wind this close into harbor. Devastator skated by the French frigate so closely that they could have leapt from one deck to the other, and he wasn’t sure if the astonished looks from the French sailors were awe or wonder at their rashness.

Of course the looks could also have been at Veers’ imposing marines lining the rail, rifles trained on the frigate should she try anything at close quarters. 

Piett found himself appreciating the Colonel’s calm and imposing readiness. 

“Sir!” called Mr. Dawley, one of the signal midshipmen. “Executor’s signalling! Admiral Vader wishes to come aboard.”

Ozzel had perked up at this and hurried over. Piett was quite curious. He had not met Lord Vader in person, having only ever seen him afar off.

“Signal Executor. Permission granted,” Ozzel said in his most officious tones, and Piett could nearly feel the importance radiating off the man. 

Further in toward shore he could see the boarding parties setting out for the captured frigates from the ships in Vader’s fleet. 

“Heave to!” Piett called, and Devastator turned across the wind her massive sails drooping despondently.

He waited next to Ozzel as the Admiral’s boat approached, white flag flying proudly in the stern. The Bosun sounded the pipe as Admiral Vader came up over the side, landing neatly on the deck, his heavy blue cloak swirling around his calves. 

He was a big man, and Piett had a fleeting moment to note that his children clearly took after their mother in height. 

He towered over Ozzel and Piett did his best not to feel his lack of height, straightening his spine and lifting his chin slightly.

This got him a considering look from bright blue eyes as Ozzel welcomed his Admiral.

“Captain Piett,” Ozzel said, waving a hand at him. “Colonel Veers and First Lieutenant Venka.”

Admiral Lord Vader nodded. “Gentlemen. That was quite a …..daring move.”

Ozzel smiled proudly. “Faint hearts win not wars, my Lord.”

“Mm. Are you going to invite me in out of this rain, Admiral?”

“Yes of course, my Lord. I would be honored to have you join me for supper.”

“Thank you, indeed, sir.”

Ozzel whirled on Piett. “Secure the decks and see to it that….”

“Will the Captain not be joining us?” Lord Vader asked mildly, but with every implication that he expected Piett at table.

He never sat to supper with Ozzel. Venka met his eyes briefly, both of them aware of this fact.

“Of….of course, my Lord. Captain?” Ozzel almost sounded as though he was choking.

“Yes, sir. Mr. Venka, you have command. Pass the word for me should something arise.”

“Aye, sir.”

“And you will join us as well, Colonel,” Ozzel said, looking to Veers.

“It will be my pleasure, sir,” replied Veers calmly. 

Accordingly, Piett found himself in his cabin, pulling off his wet cloak and considering his rather bedraggled appearance in his small mirror.

This was going to be deeply unpleasant and he was rather sure that Ozzel would have him on duty the moment supper was finished.

He had struggled into dry stockings when a knock sounded and Scrapland appeared.

“Sir. Mr. Venka thought you might need me….”

His first officer was demonstrating that he could be trusted, but had also given some small kindnesses to his Captain. Piett was grateful. 

“Thank you, Mr. Scrapland. See what you can do about my shoes would you?” Piett set about making his coat presentable, and doing his best to polish his single epaulette. 

He found a fresh stock and knotted it around his neck while Scrapland swiftly worked on brushing Piett’s shoes into shape. 

He was ready shortly, and the midshipmen slung Piett’s cloak over his own arm.

“I can take this below, sir, to dry by the fire.”

Scrapland had been very eager to please and Piett smiled at the boy’s open nature.

“Thank you Mr. Scrapland. That will be all.”

He squared his shoulders and took a last glance at his mirror.

_ Time to face the lions. _

  
  


******

Anakin watched as Devastator’s diminutive Captain entered the Admiral’s quarters, and accepted a glass of wine from Ozzel’s steward before glancing swiftly around the room. His gaze briefly touched on the lieutenants chatting in a group before resting on the second lieutenant standing by himself. He nodded and the younger man returned the gesture.

Interesting. Ozzel was blithering in his ear about family connections and Anakin was pleased for an opportunity to interrupt him.

“Captain Piett. Good evening, sir.”   
  


“My Lord. Admiral. Thank you for the invitation.”

Ozzel smiled thinly and judging from the way Piett had looked around the Admiral’s dining cabin, this was the Captain’s first time within it.

Anakin had been introduced to the gaggle of lieutenants who were clearly Ozzel sycophants. Some had given openly scornful glances at Piett as he entered, and the Fleet Admiral was curious indeed about the dynamics of the Devastator. He knew what Ozzel was like, and Anakin himself had removed the previous captain. He had not expected Nelson’s appointment to the post, and now was his opportunity to get a measure of the man.

“Quite the swift and successful action, my Lord,” Ozzel was saying, fishing for approbation once more.

“Swift indeed,” Anakin said. “I take it you wished to head off the frigate with close action?”

He could see from Ozzel’s face that such had not been his intention, but he nodded.

“Ah….yes, indeed, and thus why I ordered us to make all speed.”

“Quite so. A bit risky when running before the wind, Admiral.”

Ozzel puffed out his chest, and Piett lowered his eyes and took a sip of wine.

“Well, as I had to inform the Captain, the British navy does not delay, my Lord. And it payed off very well indeed.”   
  


Anakin was watching Piett. The man had superb control of his face, but he saw the slight tightening of the skin at the corners of his eyes. 

“You disagreed with the maneuver, Captain Piett?”   
  


The shorter man looked almost desperate for a moment, but that expression was smoothed from his face swiftly. 

“I….did, sir.”

Ozzel was shaking his head. “And as you see, Captain, my instincts were correct. You must learn not to hold back, Piett. People may get the wrong impression of your...valour.”

The man was very thinly skating on the edge of calling Piett a coward. Anakin saw that the Captain had certainly not missed this, but he merely slightly tightened the hand on his glass.

“As you say, sir.”

At this juncture, Colonel Veers entered and joined their group.

“Good evening, my Lord. Admiral. Captain, good to see you, sir.”

Anakin was having a most diverting evening already. The unspoken dynamics were both fascinating and somewhat concerning, and he was determined that he should maneuver the conversation tonight to his will. Making Ozzel sputter at some point would be a bonus delight.

Veers had almost dismissed the Admiral, but was warm to the Captain. Given that he was a marine and Piett a naval captain, Anakin found that intriguing. In his experience the navy and the marines worked together, but had no love between the branches. 

“We were just discussing the day’s success, Colonel,” Anakin said, taking the reins of the conversation back again smoothly. “Captain, I would know why you would have proceeded less swiftly.”

Piett shot a quick glance at Ozzel who was curling his lip slightly.

“I was concerned about overreach, my Lord, given the wind speed. Also the potential for collision with our ships or theirs.”

Anakin had been concerned about that too, watching Devastator’s actions from the fo’csle.

“The crew acted admirably in bringing her back,” Anakin said calmly and Ozzel leapt in once more.

“Yes indeed. We were ready for those French devils, sir. I have had them training hard for swift action and the fruit of that was evident today, by God!” 

Veers flicked his eyes sideways at Piett for a mere second. 

“They did very well indeed,” Piett agreed quietly.

_ By which Anakin supposed it was Piett who trained the crew.  _

“What would you have done, Captain Piett?” Anakin pressed. 

The man’s eyes flicked to Ozzel warily once more. 

“By your leave, Admiral,” he said courteously and Ozzel huffed, the over grown purse toad. 

“Do share, Piett. Clearly what I ordered was the right way to proceed. “

“As you say sir,” Piett returned calmly. “I would have tacked, my Lord, to bring us between the lead ships and utilize both batteries to ensure that the second frigate did not become a threat to our sloop, Endeavor.”

Veers allowed a very small smile to appear. 

Ozzel, predictably, snorted. “Endeavor is fine as you see, Captain.”

Piett inclined his head and sipped more wine in lieu of response. 

Endeavor was indeed fine. But Ozzel had left her behind in his haste for glory, and it could have ended badly. Anakin appreciated Piett’s understanding of the fleet as a whole. 

Supper was served at this juncture and Anakin made it through by allowing Ozzel to prate his way through the courses. He bided his time, interested in testing the mettle of the officers across from him.

Piett seemed drawn, and as he was rarely addressed, spoke very little. He drank sparingly as well, and Anakin wondered a bit about this.

Veers was icily polite, putting in a few words when Ozzel would bring in families of mutual acquaintance.

At last, supper finished and Ozzel presented them with cheese and port.

“I imagine you have no finer on the Executor, my Lord!” the Admiral declared, slightly flushed. Piett raised an eyebrow slightly at this extravagant claim, and Veers was not hiding his expression of disgust for Ozzel’s obtuseness.

Anakin merely nodded and sipped.

“Will you not have the port, Captain? I assure you it is better than anything  _ you’ve _ had.”

Ozzel was offering the decanter to Piett who shook his head. 

“Thank you, sir, but as I am on duty after this, I will decline.”

“Piett you really must learn to appreciate the finer things if you are to get anywhere in polite society. Or do you not have a head for  _ stronger _ drink?”

The Captain took in a very small breath before answering. “Sir, I enjoy stronger drink as you say. I just do not know that it is advisable for me to do so before the first watch.”

_ Ozzel was having his Captain stand an evening watch?  _ Anakin logged this away, and appreciated Piett’s restraint.

“I would have been glad to have Commander Skywalker join us,” the Admiral remarked and Anakin was not appreciating his familiar manner.

“The Commander is seeing to his ship, thank you sir, as he ought.”

“Of course, of course. He’s a credit to you sir. And the Lady Skywalker? How does she fare?”

Piett looked at him at this, and Anakin was delighted to have been given an opportunity for further proof of the man’s mettle.

“She is well according to her last missive, thank you, Admiral. She spoke very highly of you, Captain Piett.”

Hazel eyes were wary as they watched him. “Indeed, my Lord?”

Ozzel looked suddenly as though he had sniffed rot.

“Yes. She mentioned that you saved her from a pompous ass. She was most grateful. Leia has a very low tolerance for pompousness. Or asses.”

Anakin knew he was allowing his eyes to convey his exact meaning. It was sailing over Ozzel’s head, but he knew in meeting the Captains’ keen gaze, and from the tiny twitch of the man’s mouth, that Piett took his meaning very well.

The young second lieutenant---Kelly?--coughed lightly and reached for more cheese.

And for the first time, Piett allowed a small smile. “That...is very kind of her ladyship.”

“Naturally I am indebted to you as well.”

Ozzel was turning a deeper puce.

Veers was smiling into his glass.

“Not at all, my Lord. It was my very great pleasure to make her acquaintance.”

“Did you swallow something the wrong way, Admiral?” Veers asked gravely, observing the man’s color and expression.

Anakin knew that he must school his own features, but internally he was laughing. Who knew this stern Colonel was capable of such subterfuge?

“No, ah, no thank you, Colonel. I shall be quite all right.”

But Anakin had seen enough. So then. Ozzel hated his Captain. It was likely mutual, but Piett was much better at hiding it. Further, Anakin had confirmation that Piett’s tactical instincts were sound, and it was no doubt he and his crew that had saved Ozzel from utter disaster earlier in their action. 

And having Piett stand the first watch….Ozzel was just the sort who would look to make his inferior’s lives difficult. 

Anakin determined to keep a very close eye on Devastator’s workings. He desired white squadron to be the best in the fleet, and one of the key obstacles to that at the moment was the vice-Admiral. Piett was a promising prospect as a commander, and Anakin would give him the opportunity to prove himself.

  
  



	5. The Mettle of a Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Navy saves the Marines, and there are consequences. And Veers meets the ship's surgeon.....

“What the blazes is taking them so long?” griped the Admiral, watching the coast through his telescope.

Piett was watching as well, through his own eyeglass, and was keen to catch a sight of red coats and glinting barrels.

Ozzel was in a perfectly foul mood having been ordered by Lord Vader to put in at Cervo, as there had been rumors that the French had sent troops to potentially fortify that coastal placement. 

Vader wished to both investigate that situation and remind the Spanish that the British reach was more than capable of touching them should they continue with this foolishness in supporting the French cause.   
  


Vader himself was continuing to England to oversee the refitting of the fleet and confer with the Admiralty.

Devastator was to rejoin once she had fulfilled her mission.

It was exceedingly hot today which had not helped Ozzel’s mood in the least as Veers and his men put out in the ships’ boats. Piett didn’t envy the Colonel going ashore in this weather in their heavy uniforms, but then, Veers was well used to such climates apparently.

He and Piett had found time to speak, whether that was on deck as the men drilled or in the brief moments they could catch when both of them had time off duty to have a quick drink together, either in Piett’s quarters or the Colonel’s. 

Piett learned that Veers preferred hot weather to the colder climates, though the Colonel had grown stern and silent as he said this and Piett did not push him as to why. He also discovered that the man was a widower, and that he had had one child, a boy. 

In his observations of the Marine Colonel, Piett saw a fair man despite his reputation as a stern commander. Nicknamed ‘Iron Max’ by his troops, Veers had definitely earned the medals and commendations he had received. 

This information Piett had gleaned in some careful discussion with Sergeant Ellery, who could often be found near his Colonel and was quite eager, when pressed in the right way, to sing the praises of Veers.

Piett had shared the bare bones of his early life, and briefly mentioned his training at the Naval Academy. 

_ “And you served under Nelson,” Veers said dryly, but Piett could see he was interested. “I’ve never met him. I have certainly heard the rumors. What’s the reality?” _

_ Piett had looked into his glass of whiskey as though the answers were there. _

_ “He is a man. A flawed one, just like the rest of us. But he is brilliant as a tactician there is no denying it. And of course, the men practically worship him. One arm and winning resounding victories such as the Nile. You can imagine.” _

_ “You were on his ship there I believe?” Veers asked, taking a sip and watching him over the rim of the glass. _

_ Piett smiled slightly. “Were you speaking with the Bosun or with my first officer?” _

_ “Bosun. Venka is quite tight lipped when it comes to you though he seems to be quite…...loyal.” _

_ Piett nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve only held this command for five months as you may know. Half the officers and much of the crew are more used to…..Admiral Ozzel’s way of doing things. It always takes some time to transition to new leadership.” _

_ There was so much he did not say about the horrors of the last five months, but he could see that Veers knew that. He would not tell him about mysteriously disappearing telescopes, or food that was cold or sometimes off (he had spent a miserable two days being horribly sick from food poisoning) or even his cloak getting lost. (That had been returned by the Bosun early in his command and the Welshman sported a swollen lip, but Piett had not questioned it, and merely thanked him for the return) _

_ “Captain.” _

_ Piett realized he had been staring at his shoe buckle for a moment. _

_ “Sorry, Veers. All in all a challenging time, but I think we are making headway.” _

_ “And you haven’t answered my question,” the Colonel pressed. “Were you on Nelson’s ship?” _

_ “I was. It was a privilege to watch him in action. He was wounded again there you know.” _

_ Veers nodded. “I think everyone in the Empire knows that. He can’t sneeze without it making the papers.” _

_ “I don’t envy him in the least,” Piett said fervently. _

_ Veers raised his eyebrows at him. “Not seeking to cover yourself in glory, Piett? Why did you join the navy if not for that?” _ _  
  
_

_ Piett might have been offended, but something about the look in the Colonel’s grey eyes told him he was being teased. _

_ “I wished to serve my country, Colonel. Being paid to do so helped the decision. And I love the sea.” _

_ Veers smiled at him slightly. _

_ “Yes but you could have done something to serve your country with slightly less risk. You chose the British navy where the chance of death and gruesome injury is rather high. You’re not fooling me, Piett. Part of you likes the danger.” _

_ Piett considered him. No one else had seen that about him before. Being small and easily overlooked meant that he was not seen as a risk taker. Ozzel certainly assumed so. But Veers was right. _

_ “That may be,” he answered with small shrug, and Veers had grinned widely and held out his glass. _

_ “Captain, you and I are going to get on just fine.” _

_ Piett had clicked his tumbler against Veers’. _

Now, watching the hills overlooking the shore, Piett tried to tell himself that he wasn’t worried. Because the old deep seated fear was lurking---the one that told him he was not allowed to be close to anyone. That such attachments would always be stripped from him should he be foolish enough to make them.

There. Piett strained his ears. He was reasonably sure he had heard shots. He lowered the telescope and darted a glance over at Kelly. The lieutenant looked back, and Piett could see that he had heard it too.

He waited, and sure enough more firing carried over the water.

“Admiral. I believe the Colonel might have engaged the enemy.”

“Yes, yes, I heard it,” Ozzel said, waving a dismissive hand, “let us hope they can dispose of any French quickly so we can be on our way.”

He turned to the small grouping of lieutenants, all from families with names, seeking to earn some prestige in His Majesty’s navy. “These marines can’t seem to go anywhere without making a ruckus. It is fortunate for them indeed that the navy is always there to tidy their messes!”

Dutiful laughter from the flunkies, and Piett handed his telescope to Scrapland in order to clench his hands behind his back.

“Sir, should I lower the boats?”

Ozzel snorted. “Because you heard a few shots, Captain? Good lord you’re fussier than my maiden aunts!”   
  


More laughter from the sycophants who dared because the Admiral was there.

“I merely wish to be prepared, Admiral, to provide the necessary support.”   
  


“Captain,” Ozzel glared at him from close set eyes. “I wish to be on our way as swiftly as possible. If there is indeed such an overwhelming force as you fear, then it is regrettable, but we will need to weigh anchor and hope for the best.”

_ Hope for the….. _

“Do you mean.... leave the Colonel and his men behind, sir?” Piett asked, keeping his face and tone carefully neutral. 

He was aware that several Marine lieutenants were within earshot. 

Ozzel shrugged. “As I said, it would be regrettable.”   
  


Piett took a controlling breath, and heard Kelly mutter something that rhymed with ‘mastered’ under his breath. 

“And sir, if it is possible to  _ retrieve _ them, we would do so more quickly if the boats are lowered and away now.”   
  


“Oh for God’s _sake_ , Piett, if you’re so eager to be a Marine, you lead them then.”

“Aye, sir,” he responded quickly lest Ozzel realize that he intended to take that quite literally.

“Prepare the boats!” he called and turned to Scrapland. “Mr. Scrapland, my pistol and sword if you please. Be quick about it.”

“Aye sir,” exclaimed the boy, scrambling down the stairs toward his cabin. Piett strode to the side, more gunfire echoing to the ship and he put out his hand to Kelly for the second Lieutenant’s telescope, Scrapland having run off with his.

He thought he just glimpsed a flash of red.

“Mr. Davis, Mr. Baldwin, you will take the other boats!” he called. “Take two men with you!”

He motioned to two seaman near him to do the same.

Scrapland came scurrying back with his weapons, and Piett donned them before climbing over the railing to join his men. 

“Lower away!” he yelled.

It was just possible that Ozzel was hollering something behind him, but Piett decided not to look back. He had been pushed to breaking by the Admiral. He was not going to allow the man to leave their Marines to be slaughtered before their eyes.

The seamen put their considerable strength into rowing toward shore as Piett placed his glass to his eye once more.

No mistaking that red this time. He thought he could make out Ellery, and then a surge of Marines crested the hill, half of them pausing to reload as their companions fired at a yet unseen enemy.

And if a retreat was merited, then things must be more problematic than originally assumed.

On either side of him, Baldwin and Davis were encouraging their men to row in similar fashion and they made good speed.

Veers was clear now, and the marines were trying to keep the cover of the scrub trees at the crest of the hill, but it was clear that they were going to have to cross the beach soon. 

Quite suddenly, from the west, the unmistakable forms of French soldiers appeared, and Piett realized they were going to try and cut off Veers’ troops from the shore.

He had no idea if Ozzel would think or care to provide support from the Devastator, but some form of the navy was here to back up Veers, damn it!

He, Baldwin and Davis leapt over the gunwales into the surging surf and Piett stood steadily to pick his target and fire. Baldwin had brought a rifle, good man, and used it to sound effect as Piett reloaded.

This unexpected support, however small, had caused some hesitance in the French (typical, thought Piett) and allowed Veers and his men to make the dash across the sand toward Piett and his men. 

“Once more!” shouted Veers and twenty marines took a knee. “Target! Fire!” he shouted and the rifles cracked, dropping a decent number of the enemy. Then they were leaping into the boats, Ellery heaving a wounded man into Davis’s boat before leaping in himself. 

“Pull for the Devastator!” roared Piett, and finished re loading his pistol.

The ship had remained silent, and Piett fumed over Ozzel’s cavalier attitude toward the marines. 

Around them small white plumes bloomed in the water where bullets struck. A marine cried out in Baldwin’s boat and dropped out of Piett’s sight.

“Pull damn you!” he called to the seamen and he could see the French lining the edge of the beach, seeking a target in the bobbing boats.

“Keep your heads down!” Veers yelled, promptly contradicting this by sitting as straight as possible to get his rifle to his shoulder and fire back at the enemy. 

Piett watched as the French dropped their weapons back to their sides and then moved away.

He turned to the Colonel and took the first full breath he’d drawn in an hour.

“Are you all right, Veers?”   
  


“Just grazed,” he replied, gesturing to his forearm.

“Getting the boats to us----that your idea?” he asked after a moment over the groaning of wounded men and the voices of their companions.

“I like to be prepared,” Piett said mildly.

“And the Admiral….approved this, did he?”

“Would I be here if he didn’t?” Piett queried.

Veers looked him in the eye. “Would you?” he challenged quietly.

Piett blinked, and knew the answer. “Yes.”

Veers nodded and looked out toward the Devastator.

“Thank you, Firmus,” he said, clapping him on the back.

Piett tried to recall the last time someone had used his first name and couldn’t.

“Absolutely, Colonel.”

“I think, given that you have clearly saved my life and those of my men, that you should call me Max.”

Piett held that grey gaze. Veers was offering unequivicable friendship, and likely had no concept of the gift he was giving.

“Very well, Max.”

They reached the second rate at last, and the wounded were brought up before Piett became the last officer to climb over the side.

Ozzel, naturally, was waiting for him. 

“I called after you to stop, Captain and you ignored me!”

“Sir, I did not hear you,” Piett was able to answer honestly.

Veers raised his eyebrows. 

Ozzel’s moustache was quivering in his rage.

“You will stand the next four watches, Captain,” the Admiral snarled, and Piett did his best to receive the news without blanching. He had already had double watches for the last five days. If Ozzel was hoping to force Piett to violate the articles of war by sleeping at his post, it was quite likely he would succeed.

But damn him anyway.

“Aye sir,” he replied, and Veers stepped in.

“Admiral, Captain Piett’s actions most certainly saved my men. Surely that should be taken into consideration?”

“If I want the marines’ advice for naval matters, Colonel, I will  _ ask for it, _ ” Ozzel snapped and whirled away.

  
  


******

Veers was rather blank. He’d known that Ozzel was utterly irrational in his hatred but this…..

It was actually dangerous to have Piett be that overworked! They were in time of war--the Captain needed to be alert and as rested as possible to command well. And if he fell asleep on watch….

_ If he _ ….

And Veers realized what Ozzel was hoping. 

He felt slightly sick.

Next to him, Piett sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m going to get my cloak. Get that arm seen to, Veers.”

“Captain….”

He grasped Piett’s wiry forearm, but what could he say? He was aware of the many ears around them.

Piett looked up at him and nodded gravely. “Duty calls, Colonel.”

Veers released him and looked over in frustration to find that Baldwin’s eyes were on him.

“Let me take you down to Dr. Henley sir,” said the Bosun in a significant tone and Veers nodded, following the big Welshman.

They made their way below decks and once they were sufficiently sure of not being heard, Baldwin spoke.

“He’s determined to kill the Captain, sir!”

“I fear you are correct, Mr. Baldwin,” Veers responded as they made their way down the next ladder. 

“He cannot make it through four. Not with what he’s already done. If he were rested to begin with…..but he’s not,” Baldwin stressed, and they paused outside the surgery.

Veers already had an idea.

“All right, look. If you can make sure to be there for this watch….what are we on now?”   
  


“First dog, sir.”

“All right. I believe Mr. Kelly is on for the last and then Mr. Venka will join him on first. Pass the word to watch the Captain.”

Baldwin grimaced. “The trouble is, sir, that one of Ozzel’s little lickspits will be there as well and they’ll report if they see the Captain waver.”

Veers considered this. “All right, listen. I have my own duties and reports to perform. I have discovered the Captain is remarkably stubborn…”

Baldwin chuckled. “Lord love the little bastard….”

“Bosun.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“I could see him lasting into the first watch. I will join you all then, and look out for Ozzel’s spy. From there, we will see how things play out. But allow me to command.”

“Aye sir,” Baldwin replied, and Veers ducked into the surgery.

Five of his men were laid out on pallets and the doctor was bent over the sixth, his mate, a trembling boy, watching him.

“Hand me those tweezers!” snapped the man, and the boy dithered and whimpered.

“You are hopeless, Radley. Get your bloody whining out of this man’s face.”

Veers reached past the blanching boy and located the tool the Doctor required, handing it to him.

“Well. Thank you.” He didn’t even look up and finished pulling a splinter of bone out of the man’s side, before handing the tweezers back and snatching bandages. Once he had secured the wound to his satisfaction, he motioned to several seaman who came and lifted the man (now unconscious) off the table and over to a waiting pallet.

And the Doctor looked up at him, wiping his hands on a reddened cloth.

“And where are you injured, sir?”

He was a patrician looking man in his fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a face that forbade arguments.

“Just a graze on the arm. You are Dr. Henley then.”

“Obviously. And you are…?”

“Colonel Veers. I command these marines.”

“Mm. Lead from the front of course, I know your type. All right, jacket off.”

Veers did so, not quite sure what he thought of the man’s abrupt manner.

“Well, just a graze indeed. I expect that you lot always underplay your injuries. Daft fools the lot of you.”

“My  _ lot _ ?” Veers asked, raising an eyebrow as the Doctor cleaned the graze before wrapping it.

“Officers. Well. The ones that give two damns about their men. You clearly. The Captain is another. The first officer. Lord Vader.”

“You know Lord Vader?” Veers asked, still not sure he entirely liked this man.

“Oh yes. Served with him a number of years back before he was Admiral.”

Henley didn’t offer more than this and finished up.

“All right. Off you go, don’t need more bodies cluttering things up down here.”

“I hadn’t intended to stay, Doctor,” Veers responded dryly.

“Good, because I have a more important job than being a nursemaid or a conversation companion.”

And he was off to check on one of his patients.

Veers made his way back up to the top deck, making a note to try and avoid Henley if at all possible in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I frankly LOVE Veers in a red coat. But it does have the unfortunate side effect of making one quite a target. Still.... :) There's our Marine!


	6. The Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett tries to achieve the impossible and fails. Happily, there are several men who will stand by his side and Veers brings in an ally.

Baldwin waited until Piett had finished another turn on the deck (he was pacing to keep himself awake at this point) before he went down to the Colonel’s quarters and rapped on his door.

“Come!”

“Sorry to disturb sir, but you did say….”

The imposing Colonel looked up from his writing.

“Absolutely right, Mr. Baldwin. I believe I correctly predicted he would make it this far, did I not?”

  
  
Baldwin found he couldn’t smile. His Captain’s life was on the line here.

“Yes sir, but you need to come. He’s doing his utmost sir, but….”

And the Marine’s face sobered immediately as he rose. 

And it had been exceedingly painful to watch Piett try to fulfill Ozzel’s unreasonable orders when the Captain was clearly ready to drop. The Bosun had served with numerous captains in his career. Some decent, some terrible, a few outstanding. Piett was one of the last group, and he had watched as the Admiral had made the man’s life a living hell from the moment he set foot on the deck of the Devastator.

Many of the crew had been tempted to follow suit, and for a while they had succeeded in small and nasty ways.

The Bosun couldn’t prove it, but he was certain that the Master (who was squarely Ozzel’s man) had deliberately tripped the Captain one night, causing Piett a sprained ankle. But it could have been so much worse given that the Captain had fallen down the ladder to the upper deck as a result of the ‘accident’. 

The Bosun had set out to give Piett a fair opportunity, and as far as his influence extended, he had helped to keep the crew in line. First Lieutenant Venka had proved an able ally a month or two in, and between them, they were able to keep things from being untenable.

Gradually, the crew came around as Piett demonstrated that he had a spine made of steel. He didn’t complain. He never passed responsibility or made excuses. He faced down bigger men calmly and courteously, but there was something in his manner that spoke of danger should he be crossed. 

Baldwin had seen him lose his temper on occasion, but Piett apologized when he knew he was being unreasonable, unlike so many commanding officers, and the men respected him for it.

“Who am I looking for?” Veers asked, swinging his grey cloak around his shoulders.

“Lieutenant Manly, sir on the starboard watch. Weasley sort of fellow sir, from Cornwall.”

Veers nodded and Baldwin didn’t ask his intentions regarding the lieutenant whom Ozzel had set to keep an eye on Piett. If he wasn’t concerned about the questions that would be raised, Baldwin would have cheerfully tipped Manly over the rail. A rat snitch was worth that much to the Bosun.

Baldwin came back onto the deck first and moved toward Piett as he made his way back toward the stern. He was pausing now, putting a hand to the rail occasionally, and Baldwin’s heart was in his mouth at the Captain’s staggering gait. He could be over the side any moment. 

“Sir,” he said, coming to Piett’s side so as to be able to seize him should the man sway to far to one side, “I would appreciate your input on the stern cables, sir.”

The Captain looked at him with red rimmed eyes as though seeing him for the first time.

“Bosun.”

“Here, sir.”

“Are you…..on watch?”

“Of a sort, Captain,” he replied as they made their way slowly up to the quarter deck. Baldwin was aware of Veers passing by Venka on the larboard side. Lieutenant Manly was attempting to be subtle as he followed Piett’s progress, which was all to Veers’ benefit as it meant the man was focused on his quarry and not the sudden presence of the tall Colonel.

Baldwin didn’t actually see how Veers did it, but there was a cry and the painful thud of a body on the deck below. 

Piett was so far gone in his exhaustion that he didn’t even pause and Baldwin stayed with him, keeping an ear out for the solicitous sounds of the marine commander. He hoped rather viciously that Manly had broken something, with maybe the exception of his neck as that could get rather awkward.

He and the Captain reached the stern railings, and Piett nearly went to his knees at last, Baldwin’s arm the only thing holding him up.

“Mr. Baldwin,” he gasped, clutching at the railing in front of him, “I….can’t do this.”   
  


And the Bosun’s heart bled for the desperation in the man’s face and voice. “You can sir, just lean on me.”

“He’ll have me up on the articles, Bosun. I just….I _can’t_...I’m not seeing straight….”

“Lean on me, sir,” the Welshman repeated, drawing an arm around Piett. “I’ve got you sir, I promise.”

“Baldwin, I’ll be shot,” the Captain told him hopelessly, “What he wants. Can’t…..can’t sleep on duty in ….time of…..time of…..war…”

“Do you trust me, sir?” Baldwin asked as Piett wavered at his side.

“Yes, Bosun…..of course….”   
  


“Then lean on me, sir, and I’ll take care of it. You’re not going to be shot, while I have breath in my body.”   
  


And at last, Piett sighed and leaned into him, allowing the Bosun to take his slight weight. It took mere seconds after that for consciousness to flee the Captain’s overtaxed body, and Baldwin held him up as footsteps approached and Veers joined them on Piett’s other side.

“And how is Lieutenant Manly?” asked the Bosun quietly.

“Well he had an unfortunate accident, but he’s with Dr. Henley now and it’s nothing permanent.”   
  


“I’m sorry to hear that,” Baldwin said gravely, and the Colonel’s mouth twitched.

“Mmm. Lieutenant Venka is with them, making sure he’ll be all right, before resuming his watch.”

“Very good, sir.”

“I assume, Mr. Baldwin, that you have a location in mind for our Captain?” Veers asked in much lower tones.

“As it happens, Colonel, I seem to have left a large pile of canvas sheeting over there earlier today.”

Veers wordlessly slipped Piett’s limp arm around his neck and the two of them moved him easily to this pile.

“Very fortunate indeed, Bosun that you also appear to have left some blankets in the pile.”   
  


“A mystery, sir.”

Veers grinned at him suddenly as they lowered the Captain to this rude bed and covered him with the blankets.

“Mr. Baldwin it’s an honor to be in a conspiracy with you.”

_ Who said the marines were all bad? _

_  
_   
“Thank you, sir, mutual.”

Piett lay so still, he may have been dead, and apparently, Veers wondered this as well, because he put out his hand to the Captain’s neck to check his pulse. 

Satisfied, he drew back and they both stood so as to block any potential view of the Captain.

“How much time does he have left for the watch, Bosun?” asked Veers softly as Lieutenant Venka emerged back on deck and made his way toward them. 

“Six hours sir,” the Bosun replied.

“Well, the arm is broken in two places, I’m sorry to say,” the first Lieutenant reported, shooting a swift glance to his Captain’s covered form.

“I’m not,” replied Veers in a satisfied tone.

“Listen” Venka said, lowering his voice. “This is a short term solution. When the Admiral realizes that he didn’t manage to drive the Captain to breaking the articles on this series of watches, he’ll try for another. We can’t do this every time.”   
  


Veers nodded. “I know. And I think I have the perfect solution to that problem.”

Baldwin raised his eyebrows. “We can’t tip every lieutenant of Ozzel’s down the next deck, sir, delightful as that is to ponder.”

“No indeed. But I had forgotten until today, that there is someone aboard who can challenge the Admiral’s authority if given the right reasons.”

Venka drew in a sharp breath of comprehension. “Do you think he would?” 

“I do, if I can haul him out of his sanctum long enough,” the Colonel returned. 

“You mean to say,” the Bosun commented, realizing the plan, “that the Doctor can declare him unfit for duty.”   
  


“Yes,” Veers responded, and then all three of them looked up as a skinny form came stumbling toward them.

“Mr. Venka, sir, I was looking for the Captain.”

“What in God’s name are you doing up at this hour, Mr. Scrapland?” the first officer responded sternly, trying to draw the boy away from Piett’s hiding place. 

“Well, sir, I know he has all these watches, Mr. Venka and I thought it’s a bit cold…”

“What are you holding?” Venka hissed, “And keep your voice down, boy!”

“Bricks sir, in cloth, that I warmed on the stove….”

Baldwin smiled as Venka shook his head in exasperation. 

“All right yes, very kind, I’ll make sure he gets them.”

“Is he all right, sir? Because….”

“Scrapland. Kindly shut your gob. If you trust me at all, then believe that the Captain is all right. I will deliver these. Now get below before you draw anymore attention here, understood?”

Baldwin watched him glare the boy into submission.

“Oh, um, yes, sir. Thank you Mr. Venka.”

“Go.”

And the young midshipmen departed in a jumble of gangly limbs.

Venka sighed and moved back to Veers and the Bosun.

“These will be handy sir,” he said, taking the warm bundles from the first Lieutenant, and kneeling next to the Captain again to tuck them under the blankets. Piett slept on. Baldwin suspected they could fire a cannon by his head and he wouldn’t stir. He patted the younger man’s shoulder and rose.

“I’ll wake him at seven bells. He needs to be seen walking back to his cabin after the watch,” Baldwin told the two officers.

Veers nodded. “Very good thinking, Bosun. I’ll wait for you in his quarters as I suspect we may have to keep him from blowing this whole thing up himself in his guilt.”   
  


The Colonel looked at them solemnly. “I know I don’t have to tell either of you what it will mean for all of us, and the Captain in particular, if what happened this evening was to appear in the scuttlebutt.”   
  


The Bosun was almost offended. Clearly Veers had decided that Piett was his friend, but he was Baldwin’s Captain, and had been so before the marines came aboard. 

“I’m sure the navy is just as good as the marines at keeping things in house, as it were, sir,” he responded.

“I understand, Veers,” said the first Lieutenant. “And….thank you both on the Captain’s behalf.”

They all shook hands and the two officers moved off, leaving the Bosun to stand guard over Piett.

He would have it no other way.   
  


******

A large hand was shaking his shoulder. 

Why?

Piett managed to unstick his eyes, but it was challenging work--as though they had been tarred shut.

“Sir?”

_ What had happened? _ _  
  
_

“Sir, I’m sorry but you need to get up now, Captain. Just for a bit, sir, and then you can sleep again.”

_ Sleep? _ _  
  
_

A kind weathered face was looking down at him in the dim light afforded by the stern lanterns. Baldwin.

“I don’t…..what happened Bosun? Did I _fall_ …..?”   
  


Piett hated the fog in his mind, it was moving so slowly….

“No, sir,” the big Welshman answered, helping to him to sit. “Your body just gave out on you, sir. Mr. Venka can explain, Captain. He’s coming to walk with you back to your cabin, sir. Your watch is over in a few minutes.”

_ His watch. Ozzel. The articles. Piett had……….oh dear God. _

“Bosun!” He gripped the massive forearm that was helping him rise from a pile of sail canvas. 

“Don’t you fret, sir. I told you we have you, Captain. No one’s the wiser.”   
  


“Mr. Baldwin,” Piett’s faculties were recovering to half speed now. “I have just violated the articles. Please tell me you did not aid me in doing so.”   
  


“I absolutely did, sir,” the Bosun replied cheerfully, sotto voice. “And I would do it again for you, sir, given the circumstances. So would we all.”

_ All? _ _  
  
_

“Captain.” Venka was in front of them now, saluting smartly. “I’m here to take over the watch, sir.”

He was smiling knowingly at Piett, and Baldwin handed the Captain his hat.

“ _ Tom _ . You could be shot for this.” Piett needed them to understand. He could not be responsible for their needless deaths. Ozzel may have found a way to bring him down--- he could not allow these good men to go with him. 

“Sir,” his first Lieutenant said very seriously. “As the Bosun has no doubt been assuring you---no one knows. And it will stay that way, Captain.”   
  


“Lieutenant Manly….”   
  


“Lieutenant Manly had a clumsy accident last night. Ran into Colonel Veers, the bloody idiot, and fell down a ladder. He’s been below with the surgeon all night.”

Piett stared up at Venka’s face.  _ The risks they were taking! _

“Please tell me he’s alive.”   
  


“Oh he is, more’s the pity,” said Venka calmly. “Shall we come down to the quarterdeck, Captain? Make your presence known? It’s almost 8 bells for the middle watch, sir.”

_ Please God, he couldn’t let this happen. Tom. Baldwin. Veers from the sound of things….. _

He placed his hat on his head and took a steadying breath.

“Gentlemen….”

“Sir.” The Bosun was interrupting him. “Respectfully, sir, there’s nothing you need to say. No one knows that shouldn’t. It was grossly unjust, Captain, and as I’m a loyal subject of His Majesty and what’s more, a good Welshman, no prating puff gut Admiral is going to take my Captain from me, sir. So help me God, sir.”

Piett stared at him as the ship’s lanterns swung gently casting shadows around them. 

“Couldn’t have put it better myself, sir,” put in Venka, “though I’m from Northumberland.”

Baldwin grinned at him.

Piett had never in his life known such loyalty to himself. 

“Thank you, Bosun,” he said quietly. “You are putting yourselves at terrible risk….”

Eight bells chimed.

“Come sir,” the first Lieutenant said. “That’s your watch gone and if you need further convincing, I’ll leave that to Colonel Veers who is waiting for us.”

Piett put out his hand impulsively to Baldwin who engulfed it in his large horny one.

“I am deeply indebted, Mr. Baldwin.”

“Not at all, sir.”

And Venka was urging them to his cabin. Piett felt profoundly weary, which, he supposed, was no surprise as he couldn’t recover his lost stamina with a mere five hours of sleep. 

“Here we are, Captain.” Venka saluted. “I must be going up top, sir. Get some more rest.”   
  


“Tom….” he trailed off. Words were not adequate for what Venka had done for him. 

The taller man gripped his arm briefly. “I know, sir. If the position was reversed, Captain, I like to think you’d do likewise.”

“I would, Lieutenant,” Piett told him firmly. The other man departed and Piett entered his quarters to be faced with a Colonel sprawled in one of his chairs, reading one of Piett’s books.

He shut the door and removed his cloak, hanging it neatly before moving toward his friend who rose as he came further in.

“So. Do I need to stop you from running off to confess to Ozzel?” asked Veers.

“Max…” Piett sighed. “If I do that, all of you are forfeit as well, and you know that, damn you.”

The marine was entirely unrepentant. 

“I do indeed. And I know you well enough to know that while you would risk yourself with virtually no provocation, you would fight tooth and nail to protect us.”   
  


Piett rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“I just….Veers what an awful risk.”

“Worth it,” the man said, moving behind him to draw off his blue jacket. “Now. Since our delightful Admiral was no doubt counting on you to have already failed his little test, my understanding from Venka is that you do not have any watches for the day. This is a miracle we are going to take advantage of, Firmus, and you are going to bed immediately.”   
  


Piett’s slow fingers were removing his waistcoat while Veers hung up his duty jacket.

“That sounds wonderful, but I have reports…..”   
  


“Which will wait until your brain has the necessary power to give coherent thought to them.”

“Veers.” Piett sat to slip off his shoes. “The Admiral will try again. He…..he hates me after all.”

“He may try something else,” Veers said, looking supremely confident, “but it will not be this, my friend. I have a plan in mind. Leave it to me. You sleep. Ellery is going to stand guard at your door, and short of sighting the enemy, you are not going to be disturbed.”

Piett wondered at himself that he was already so fond of a marine colonel. 

  
  
“Thank you, Veers,” he said simply, moving toward his sleeping cabin.

“Sleep well, Piett,” the man responded and ducked out.

  
  


****

Veers found Henley in his cabin, writing up his own reports.

“Yes, Colonel, what is it? I’m terribly busy as you can see.”

“Yes, Doctor, I do see that, but I needed to ask you rather urgently on a matter that needs your expertise.”

He hoped that such an appeal would stoke the Doctor’s professional ego and he was not disappointed. 

Henley set down his pen and tilted his head. 

“Go on.”

“I am concerned about sleep deprivation when it comes to the men operating as they ought. Do you recommend some parameters for that? How long can I push them before fatal mistakes may happen, for instance?”

“Depends, Colonel. When one has to, it is possible to operate on three days without sleep for example. But that could only be under extreme necessity.”   
  


“What can happen if this is chronic?”   
  


Henely cocked an eyebrow at him.

“How so?”   
  


“If it becomes necessary for me, say, to average 3 maybe 4 hours of sleep a night?”   
  


“Again, Colonel, that somewhat depends on our circumstances.”   
  


“Yes, yes, wartime necessity, Doctor, I do understand that. But even so, if that were to accumulate over a period of weeks….?”

Henley frowned. “That would be most dangerous, sir. Especially as you are the commanding officer. Confusion would be common. Hallucinations are not unknown. What if you gave orders to fire on civilians, or God help you, your own men?”

Veers nodded. 

“Doctor that is most helpful. Then I need to inform you of the situation.”

“What situation? Are you telling me this is more than hypothetical?” Henley rose. 

“Yes. Our Captain has been operating this way for some time now..”   
  


“What do you mean by ‘some time’?” Henley asked sharply.

“At least a month if not more.”   
  


“Bloody hell.  _ Why _ ?”   
  


And this was the moment Veers had been leading to and must deal with carefully.

“My understanding is that he is following the wishes of the Admiral. Piett is indeed very competent as a commander, and no doubt the Admiral wishes to capitalize on that….”

“Don’t spout bloody rubbish, man. And don’t take me for a fool. I’ve known Ozzel can’t stand the Captain. Whatever crony of his who got him appointed as an Admiral should be drowned in his own beer. Are you telling me that he is deliberately giving Captain Piett an impossible schedule?”

Veers felt that this tirade was promising. 

“I am.”   
  


“To what end?”   
  


Veers held the Doctor’s gaze. “I think you and I both know what end the Admiral is hoping for, Doctor Henley.”

The other man hissed through his teeth and folded his arms. 

“What an appalling ass. So you came to me, because I am the only person on board with the right authority to do something about it.”

Veers didn’t care for the importance that was practically creating an aura around the Doctor, but he was essentially right. 

“Quite.”   
  


“What did you have in mind, Colonel?”   
  


“Well sir, I think having you on deck for some fresh air very shortly will be rather handy.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes, Doctor. Around the start of the forenoon watch I should think.”

“And what, exactly were you hoping I’d do?”

Veers speared him with a look. “Offer your professional expertise when it is called upon, sir. As I am reasonably confident it will be.”

Henley sighed.

“I did not sign on to this ship to get involved in the drama in the senior leadership, Colonel.”   
  


“Neither did I,” Veers responded in clipped tones. “But the safety of the ship is at stake, wouldn’t you say, Doctor?”

“I assume that is what you  _ want _ me to say, Colonel Veers.”

“Only if you think it’s true, sir.”   
  


Henley raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. I have to say, Colonel, I find it very odd indeed that you are going so far out of your way for a naval captain. That lieutenant from earlier….”

“Manly?” supplied Veers.

“Well I would hardly describe him that way, but yes, that one, I assume that his ‘accident’ had something to do with you?”   
  


Veers gave him a lofty stare. 

“It’s rude to make assumptions, Doctor.”

  
  


****

Venka was exceedingly weary himself, and by all rights could have gone to his cabin as his watch had finished. But the Admiral would be emerging any moment now, and Thomas Venka was not going to miss this show for all the world.

Colonel Veers had also found reasons to drill his marines at 8 in the morning, down on the main deck and had met his eyes several times now. 

The Bosun was coiling cables very slowly and methodically on the larboard side. Venka had already seen him undo his work and start again. Twice.

Doctor Henley emerged from his cabin, and began a brisk walk around the deck without speaking to anyone. 

Venka found a reason to be picky about a line and bawled out an unfortunate midshipman about it.

And at last, Ozzel emerged. He stood there in the morning sun, hands on his hips and surveyed the relatively calm scene before him. Then he frowned as he looked about and Venka made himself very visible.

“Mr. Venka!”

“Sir?”   
  


“Where is Lieutenant Manly?”

“I had to escort him to the Doctor sir. He had a most unfortunate accident.”   
  


Henley was up near the fo’csle and thus, out of earshot.

“He….when did this happen, Lieutenant?”

“Hmmm. Must have been near the start of the middle watch, sir. I am assured he will be all right.”

Henley was making his way back toward them now.

Ozzel looked like a red puffer fish.

“Where is the Captain? He was to be on watch then. How did he let this happen?”   
  


“The Captain is resting in his cabin sir, and had no control over Mr. Manly’s clumsiness, Admiral.”   
  


Veers shot him a look.

“Send for the Captain!” snapped Ozzel, and Henley’s pedantic tones rang out.

“I would advise that the Captain is not disturbed, sir,” he said, coming to join them in a miracle of timing.

Ozzel glared. “I need answers and the Captain can provide them.” He opened his mouth once more and Henley spoke.

“I cannot allow you to wake Captain Piett, Admiral.”   
  


Venka felt a little thrill at both the words and the tone. Baldwin, over by his cables on the other side of the deck, coughed lightly.

“You…..you do not command here, sir, and I….”

“In medical matters on board ship, Admiral, I think you will find that I have the final say. Captain Piett is suffering from severe exhaustion, and waking him would place his health at risk. Clearly there was some terrible mishap with the duty schedules.”

Ozzel’s color matched Veers’ jacket.

“What mishap, Doctor? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean!”

“Well clearly, placing the Captain on so many watches is quite dangerous. A man can only go without sleep for so long, Admiral. Why, he might have fallen asleep at his post and then where would we be? We can’t afford to lose so excellent a Captain to a damn fool silly scheduling mistake!”

And Venka watched Veers turn to look straight at the Admiral at this comment. 

Ozzel looked around at all of them, sputtering. 

“Well, that is…...what we need…..”

“I will let you know when Captain Piett is fit for duty sir, you may rest assured about that,” Henley told the apoplectic man calmly. “In the meantime, he should not be disturbed. I’m sure he’ll be quite rested in 48 hours.”

He turned and descended the quarterdeck onto the main. As he passed Veers’ marines the Colonel shouted “Ten Hut!”

The red coats snapped to attention as the Doctor passed with supreme indifference and descended to the upper deck.

Venka felt it was high time he went in search of some coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just....I'm very fond of Henley at times. ;D


	7. Complementing the Devastator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia joins the crew of the Devastator. And the fleet is deployed once more with orders to head to the Mediterranean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freely confess, that I am not entirely sure how ships of the line acquired their crew. I know that Captains were responsible for that and that they would advertise for positions on their ships. I decided to have this happen in an office by the harbor, assuming that Devastator was well known and lots of men would wish to serve upon her. :)

Leia looked at herself in the small mirror in the quarters she had rented near the harbor.

Her rich brown hair was tied back at her neck as she had seen the men do, and she was attired in plain and decent men’s clothing. Nothing too expensive, but neither was it poor quality. She placed the hat (which was slightly too big) on her head. 

Well. She was very small, but then a ship needed various ‘boys’. She had considered forging papers to get her a midshipman’s position, but then that would have placed her in a position that she didn’t think she could pull off. 

So she would hope that she could be useful as an educated young man. Perhaps the warrant officers would need assistants.

She made her way down the narrow wooden staircase, her small duffle over one shoulder. 

The streets of Portsmouth were rather crowded which was unsurprising with a ship of the line like the Devastator in harbor. People were coming to take a look at her, merchants were hawking wares down on the busy docks and the sailors were coming into town in search of drink and fresh food for a few days.

It had been announced that there was a need for more crew before she set sail once more in order to rejoin the rest of the white fleet which had put in at Southampton. Leia joined a line of men near the small office by the harbor where enlistments were taking place. 

While she waited, she inhaled the scent of the sea---so close now and she could just see the mighty masts of the Devastator over the roof lines.

Captain Piett should just be receiving her latest letters to him. The last informed him that she would be travelling for some time and therefore the post would be erratic. She had written to inform her Father and her brother of something similar. 

She was aware they were in Southampton, but the risk of serving directly in her Father’s part of the fleet was too great. Certainly there was a chance that Piett would recognize her, but Devastator was a big ship and she would be in a very lowly position indeed. She was pleased at the idea that she could watch out for him, even if it was from a distance.

His last letter to her had been…..melancholy she supposed. She doubted he would have realized this, but she did in comparing it to the tone of previous missives. It concerned her, but given that he was on Ozzel’s ship, she couldn’t say she was surprised. 

She hoped keenly that she could talk her way onto his ship.

The line shuffled forward and eventually she found herself before a keen eyed lieutenant and a big man, with grizzled curly grey hair and a very weathered face.

“Name?” asked the older man and the Lieutenant waited expectantly, pen in hand.

“Naberrie,” she replied, as gruffly as possible. “Liam Naberrie.” She had chosen her mother’s family name, as she was more likely to respond to it naturally than something completely foreign. 

The lieutenant wrote this down.

“Experience?”

This would be the challenge. “Um, none yet. But I grew up all my life in a family of sailors,” she said. “I’m a quick learner.”

The lieutenant pursed his lips and the older man, Welsh by the sound of his accent, looked doubtful. 

“Given our deployments, we are mostly seeking experience. And you’re quite a shrimp, lad.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” Leia told him, swallowing the inclination to be insulted.

The two men exchanged a glance.

“Look, lad, we’re not looking for ship’s boys at the moment. Get some experience then….”

“Please,” Leia said, trying not to sound pathetically young. “I’m keen to serve. I assure you I’m quick and useful. I can read…”

“So can many of our men,” the lieutenant said cooly. “What other education do you have?”

“I can write and I am capable of mathematics including algebra.”

The older man rubbed his chin and looked at her consideringly.

“How about biology?”

“One of my favorite topics,” she answered truthfully.

“Henley did say to keep an eye out for someone he could use as a mate,” the lieutenant said thoughtfully. “His hands and stature could be useful medically.”   
  


_ Perfect. Yes, she could do that. _

“I know how to dress some basic wounds,” she said. “I don’t get squeamish with blood.”

The big Welshman looked at her pityingly. “If you’ve not served on a ship of the line, you don’t know that. However, our ship’s Doctor may be able to use you. His is the final call, mind. If he says no, you’ll need to push off.”

She nodded eagerly. “Understood.”

“Join that lot over there,” the lieutenant told her. “They’ll be heading to Devastator soon.”

She nodded and lifted her duffle again to make her way over to the bluff faced seamen.

“I don’t know, Mr. Venka, he’s such a little runt….”

“I have learned, Bosun, never to discount a man based on his size,” returned the lieutenant calmly.

Leia smiled to herself. She would not let them discount her.

She kept to herself in the raucous group of potential sailors, suddenly struck by an attack of nerves.

_ The Captain would be there. Would he recognize her? _

She chewed her lip as they made their way toward the harbor’s edge, and then the massive bulk of the ship of the line was casting her shadow over them.

Some good natured ribbing took place between some of the seamen lining Devastator’s rails and those that were making their way up the gangway. Leia was by some distance the smallest, and a few jibes were thrown her way as well.

“Whose baby did you steal then?”

“Hey sonny, we’ve got pork in the hold bigger than you.”

“Maybe we could use you to climb  _ inside _ the cannons to clean them!”

General laughter. She gave a half hearted smile, and then was stepping down onto the broad deck of the ship.

And she was in love.

Oh she had been on ships before of course. She had sailed extensively due to some of her Father’s postings, when she was a child. But she had yet to set foot on one of the big rated ships of the line. She was very keen to see the Executor as well. But Devastator was lovely. Her lines were majestic indeed, and Leia had to be recalled to herself by a bark from the poop deck above them.

“Attention!”

And the seamen quieted immediately at the Lieutenant’s voice. It was the same one who had been in the naval office, and he turned deferentially to….

…..to her Captain. 

He moved to the rail and looked at all of them a moment. Leia had to fight the urge to duck her head. He wasn't looking for her. How could he possibly put together Lady Skywalker with the petite boy before him?   
  


“Welcome aboard the Devastator!” He called, and he was so at ease and well suited to the authority of his post. It was very different from the strained man she had met at the ball, and she was pleased to see him in his natural environment. 

“We have four more days in harbor. You will spend that time with us aboard, to see if you are indeed suited to serve in His Majesty’s navy on the Devastator. If not, good luck. If you do well, I shall look forward to serving with you. I run a tight ship. I do not tolerate drunkenness nor lay abouts. If you are willing to work hard, you will be treated fairly and be paid according to your labors. Mr. Venka!”

“All right you lot!”

Piett disappeared and Leia, along with the others, found herself hustled below to be assigned to the appropriate section of the ship. It was all she could do not to stop and look at the mighty guns in their carriages as they passed. She would almost certainly have been denied this view of the ship as herself, most deeming it inappropriate, but now, disguised as a boy, she drank in every detail. 

Would she sleep in a hammock? What was ship’s fare for the crew like? She noted several seaman with cats purring in their arms. 

They passed a noisy group playing cards. A lone petty officer was playing a gentle tune on a fiddle near them.

“You! Naberrie!” She looked up at the midshipman calling her. “You’re to go back there. Surgeon will see you and determine if he can use you.”

What deck were they on? Leia cursed herself for not paying attention to that, so caught up as she had been in gawking at all that they passed. 

She racked her brain and decided it should be the orlop deck. That was where most surgeons worked correct?

Leia ducked behind a large beam and found herself in a large open area. There were shelves built in near a heavy operating table. Numerous pallets were ranged near the bulkheads and there were three with occupants. None seemed critical to her eye.

“Well. They must be amused at their little, and I mean that in every sense of the word, joke,” came a voice behind her.

Leia spun to face a gruff man in his fifties. He was keen eyed and neatly dressed, though he did not look best pleased to see her.

“You’re not bigger than my forceps. Why in God’s name did they send you to me?”

“I’m Liam Naberrie….”

“I don’t care about your name unless you’re staying aboard. Do you have medical experience? How old are you?”

_ And she thought her Father could be brusque. _

“I’m 17.” Which was not true, she was 20, but a younger age fit her build.

“I don’t have formal medical experience, but I’ve dealt with injuries and illnesses.” 

This was true. She had personally looked out for various servants of theirs and had visited the sick in their parish. 

“Hmm. And let me guess, you’ve not been on a ship before.”

_ Well. She had, to be fair. Should she admit this? _

“Because if I take you, I’ll not be nursing you through perpetual seasickness. We’re at war and I’ll need you useful, not puking your guts out on the side.”

“I have been on a ship. I take about two days to acclimate,” she told him, and his craggy eyebrows rose.

“ _Acclimate_ , eh? Educated then?”

“I can read and write, and do arithmetic. I was told that my interest in biology might be useful to you.”

He did look interested at that. 

“Well, maybe they’re not having me on after all. Is it an interest, or did you actually learn something useful?”   
  


“In terms of medical relevance, I know basic human anatomy. I am aware of some herbal remedies and what to do for dehydration or fevers.”

“Hmmmmm….” he was pacing around her, looking her up and down as though she was a purchase he was considering. 

“How do you do with blood?”

“I have not dealt extreme wounds, if that’s what you mean. But I think I would do all right, sir.”

He came to stand in front of her again. “This isn’t a pleasure cruise, boy. You won’t be gathering material for a university essay. This will be real and gruesome and hard. You will be expected to do more than just clean instruments.”

She nodded, hope spearing through her. “I understand.”

“All right. You’re on a trial basis. You’ll have from now until the first port we make to prove yourself, understood?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“You’ll bunk down here in case you need to be on call.”

This was a huge relief to Leia as she had been pondering the difficulties of hiding her sex from the rest of the crew. If she was here it would be much easier to do. 

“Understood, sir.”

“I’m ‘Doctor’, boy. Save ‘sir’ for the officers. And anyone senior to you. Which is most of them. Your mess will be one deck up with the other master’s mates. You’ll be expected to help out with that as well.”   
  
Leia was no great hand at cooking but she could manage basic things.

“I can do that, Doctor.”

“Well.” He stared at her a moment longer. “You can start by cleaning my instruments”

  
  


*****

The next four days were a blur when Leia looked back on them. Henley had her reading his medical journals (‘what use is it you being able to read, if I don’t have you reading these?’) and cleaning his surgical area. When she wasn’t doing that, she was redressing the bandage on the leg wound of a Royal Marine, (She had only thought she might get sick once) and learning how to make a tonic for hangovers. 

“Does it really help?” she asked interestedly, because it looked and smelled awful.

He had grinned conspiratorially at her. “Let’s just say they don’t want to get drunk for quite some time after having the ‘cure’.”

She smiled. Quite clever of the Doctor really. 

She had been very interested in what he was making up while she ground up the ingredients for the hangover ‘cure’.

“What are you working on, Doctor?”

He looked at her over the rims of his glasses. It was a very effective way of looking at people, but Leia was fairly certain he didn’t need them. It was entirely possible, from what she had observed of the man, that he knew the power they held as a prop.

“This is for headaches.”

“I thought I was…..”

“No, no,” he interrupted with a wave of the hand. “You are working on the drinking deterrent.  _ I _ am working on something genuinely intended to relieve headaches. The Captain is prone to them as are a few other members of the crew.”

Well. Leia had to bite back a reply to that regarding the  _ cause _ of these headaches since he was an Admiral.

“Make certain you do not confuse the two,” Henley continued. 

Indeed not.

The day they set sail, Leia was allowed, along with much of the crew, to come up on deck as a large portion of the populace saw them off. While many sailors lined the rails to wave good bye to family members and friends, Leia was watching the senior officers as it was her first opportunity to do so freely.

She recognized Ozzel immediately, standing in great pomp upon the poop deck so as to be as visible as possible to the populace. 

Her Captain was standing in his dress blues to the side, next to a tall Marine Colonel who looked very well in his red uniform. She recognized Lieutenant Venka and could not yet name all the other officers. 

The Colonel met her eye at one point and Leia flushed, moving to blend in with the jumble at the rail as the mighty vessel moved away from the hurrahing and, in many cases, weeping. 

At last they were clear of the harbor and Ozzel turned to go into his cabin, signaling that the real work must begin.

The officers of the deck began hollering at their various crews and the ship’s complement sprang to action.

Some of the new comers, the landsmen, Leia learned, were clearly still trying to figure out what to do, but for the most part the Devastator became the smooth ship of the line that Leia knew she would be under Piett’s command. 

He had moved closer to the rails so that he could be near to the wheel where the helmsman was steering a steady course out into open water. She watched as the tall Colonel clapped him briefly on the shoulder, and the Captain smiled at him before the Marine came down to the quarter deck.

He gave her a raised eyebrow as he passed and he did not miss much. She could not be caught gawking at the senior officers again. 

“Get to work, boy,” he admonished coolly and Leia obeyed, moving to the top of the ladder to the upper gun deck. One last glance to Piett saw him with his hands clasped behind his back and face to the wind. She recalled their conversation and smiled.

He was where he should be.

  
  


****

Piett paused in his writing to shout ‘come!’ as the knock sounded on his door.

“Assessments from the warrant officers, sir,” said Venka, coming in with a sheaf of more paper.

Piett schooled his face when he really just wanted to put his head on his desk, and reached out a hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Venka.”

“I’ve had a skim over them myself, sir. Quite a promising lot out of Portsmouth. Most of them experienced. Only three of the landsmen causing concern. We’ll either make ‘em or put ' em ashore when we return.”

“Or send them back with another ship,” Piett said, setting the reports neatly on the desk.

“Indeed, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr.Venka, that will be all then.”

“Sir.” Venka saluted sharply and departed. 

They were three days out of Portsmouth and making good time to meet Lord Vader off the southern coast of France, where further orders for the fleet would be given. 

It was good to be at sea again though Ozzel was more hateful than he had ever been. Piett was being very cautious indeed after learning of Doctor Henley’s unexpected support. While he appreciated it, it had served to further stoke the Admiral’s resentment toward his captain. 

He sipped at cold tea and his glance fell upon the latest letters from her Ladyship. He had received two in Portsmouth, and had already reread them several times. It was a delightful and refreshing experience to receive personal post. Certainly he received missives from the Admiralty, and occasionally from his solicitor or the landlady from whom he rented a few rooms on the rare occasions he was on land for an extended period of time. 

But her Ladyship’s letters were to him  _ as a friend, _ and he still marveled over that. He picked up the one most recently postmarked and even though it was now February, he could picture her writing it in the warm glow of the Christmas holidays.

  
  


_ To Captain Firmus Piett _

_ Amidala House _

_ Berkshire _

_ 12 December 1799 _

  
  


_ My dear Captain, _

_ Christmas preparations are sending the house into an alarming bustle given that I am the only one here to appreciate them. Oh don’t you fear, I shan’t be alone and pining, I shall be sure to have the house full of friends and acquaintances, but it is admittedly not quite the same.  _

_ Our housekeeper has outdone herself in helping me organize the decorations and we cannot go anywhere in the house without greenery and ribbons and dried oranges. It smells divine and cheers me up no end.  _

_ I do wish you could see it, and am letting you know now that if you have a Christmas in England, you are to spend it with us. It is not a request, dear Captain. I may not be your Admiral, but you cannot refuse a command from a lady, now can you? _

_ I am glad to hear that you have now officially met my Father and found him to be reasonably favorable. I am sorry it had to be at a dinner with Admiral Ozzel, but I suppose these things cannot be helped. Do tell me if you see Luke in person. I have received exactly one note from my brother and it was 8 lines long. I know because I counted. _

_ Father wrote to me as well and that is three letters now which is much more than he has done recently. He mentioned you, and since he abhors dinner parties in general, that is saying something. I should give you the exact way he said it. _

_ ‘I dined with Admiral Ozzel and his senior officers after the engagement. It was exceedingly tedious, but must be done. I thought Captain Piett to be sensible though we did not have much conversation.’ _

_ Now, that may not be much to you, Captain, but I can assure you that if my Father finds someone ‘sensible’ then you may be moving up in the world. _

_ I must let you know that I shall be travelling a great deal in the next several months, and I am sorry to say that this will mean sporadic letter writing. Please know you will be often in my thoughts, and I shall drop a line when I can be assured it will reach you.  _

_ To make up for that, I shall write to you while I travel and then send as much of it as I can in one go. You may end up with my autobiography, but I hope that it will prove diverting for you when you do receive it. _

_ I hope you stay safe. I pray that for all of you and remain, _

_ Your friend, _

_ Lady Leia Skywalker _

He set it down once more and sipped at the now stone cold tea, making a face and rising to dump contents of the cup in the bucket holding his old shaving water. 

He was glad to hear of her impending travel plans. She kept a merry tone in her letters, but he could read between the lines as it were, and saw a very lonely girl. She would be particularly so given that she clearly did not care much for the diversions that most of the aristocratic classes seemed to enjoy.

At the same time, he would miss receiving her communication heartily. 

It was not all about him, he reminded himself, chidingly, returning and sifting through the reports from his warrant officers. If she could be less lonely and truly enjoy travel, then he could only support that.

The Captain set to work once more. But not until he had carefully stored her Ladyship’s letters in the metal box in his desk. He would re read them whenever he needed reminding that there was someone out there who thought of him.

  
  
  



	8. The Secret and the American

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia is recognized. Meanwhile her brother encounters and unexpected American....

Leia saw action six weeks into the voyage when the fleet had been a week into their Mediterranean posting. While the British fleet had the superior numbers, the French ships were well commanded and proved a tricky opponent. 

They slipped through their fingers despite Excelsior successfully sinking one of their number. It was the sinking ship in fact, that allowed the others to escape as the British ships could not maneuver quickly enough around the wreck to pursue. The wind had also been in the French favor and they had moved swiftly over the horizon, though Leia witnessed Artoona attempt to make sail to pursue. 

Her brother’s ship was fast and fleet of foot, but it was too late. 

Leia herself was on the upper deck, attending to some of the wounded gunners when she heard the commotion above, and then a mighty explosion which shook the deck above them.

She stared wide eyed at the man whose shoulder had been shot through.

“What was it?” she gasped.

“That was a cannon, boy. But the French ships fled so they said….”

She snatched the medical supplies Henley had given her.

“Get down to the orlop,” she told the man. “You’ll do for now.”   
  


And she sprinted for the ladder, making it to the main deck in record time.

It soon became clear to her what had happened, judging from the reaction around her. The sinking French ship had put up one last mad act of resistance, and a gun crew had miraculously fired a langrage shot which had come over to the Devastator in a deadly arc and rained down scrap metal and rock thunderously upon the deck.

Colonel Veers and his Marines were now raking the vessel with rifle fire and on the other side Avenger fired her cannon into the wreck, shattering it further. The screams and cries of the wounded and dying on both sides assaulted Leia’s ears. 

Devastator had some minor damage to her upper hull, but it was that last shot that had wreaked such terrible vengeance. Langrage shot was designed to hurt the men more than the ship, and it had done that very effectively indeed.

Several red coated forms lay on the deck unmoving, and Leia saw immediately that they wouldn’t move again. 

She shuddered at the sight of a seaman whose chest had been crushed. He lay looking up at the sky in surprise at his death. 

She was checking the pulse of an unconscious midshipman when she was gripped by a hand with iron strength, and found herself looking up into the urgent grey eyes of Colonel Veers.

“Surgeon’s mate yes? Just posted in Portsmouth?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come with me to let me know if we can safely move the Captain. He was injured in that last blast.”   
  


And Leia felt her insides turn to lead. 

_ Please not her Captain….. _

She followed him up to the quarterdeck where a small cluster of men were surrounding a fallen form on the deck.

First Lieutenant Venka, blood streaming down his face from a wound in his hairline, was barking orders at the crew, but she didn’t miss the look he exchanged with Veers as she passed him.

_ Please, please, _ she prayed as she moved to the Captain. Veers shooed a gangly young midshipman out of the way, and Leia knelt at the head of the unconscious man.

This was the closest she had been to Piett since she had boarded the ship, but she wasn’t thinking about her disguise or the fact that she ought not to be here. She could only focus on his pale face and the large discolored lump near his temple, blood trickling slowly from a small cut.

“What happened exactly?” she asked, carefully feeling his skull, then moving to gently feel his neck and on with his bones, pressing at the shoulder and collarbones.

“Glancing blow from a piece of metal. Flung him back into the wheel,” answered one of the lieutenants. Kelly?

“Glancing not direct, you’re certain?” she asked. Because if it was direct, her Captain's outlook was dire indeed. His skull had seemed intact, but she was not an expert by any means.

“I’m certain,” he answered.

She checked for any wounds and was relieved to find very little blood. He was intact aside from the blow he had taken to the head, and would no doubt have some spectacular bruising from being flung into the wheel.

“I think….” she began, addressing herself to Veers, when Piett moaned and opened confused hazel eyes.

“Easy, Firmus,” said the Marine, placing a restraining hand on the man’s shoulder. “Stay put for the moment.”

He looked up at Veers, blinking in a way that definitely spoke of concussion.

“Do you know who I am?” the Colonel asked anxiously, and Leia had not expected that. He cared then. She felt much more friendly to the man in that moment. 

“Veers,” Piett grated, and the taller man’s shoulders slumped slightly in relief.

“That’s right.”   
  


“What…..happened?”

“Langrage shot, sir,” answered Kelly. “Caught us all by surprise.”

“We’re….certain...she’s done now?” Piett managed and Veers smiled at him. 

“Oh _very_ certain, Captain. Now, we are seeing about getting you moved…”

The Colonel looked over to her, and Piett’s gaze followed his, to land on Leia’s face, so close in that moment to his own.

And his eyes got big.

_ No _ .

“What the  _ bloody… _ .?” was as far as he got before Leia, panicking, placed her hand over his mouth.

“You really shouldn’t speak anymore, Captain. Conserve your strength.”

Veers was looking at her with raised eyebrows and she swiftly removed her hand.

“ _ You _ shouldn’t…..” he tried again. 

“Please, sir,” she said desperately, leaning in closer to make sure he could see her clearly with those concussed eyes. “ _Please_ don’t speak. Let’s wait and get you to your cabin.”

She held his gaze urgently, and he may be concussed, but she saw the comprehension and he nodded, then winced. 

“We can move him,” she said to Veers, and he and Kelly moved to either end of Piett, lifting him swiftly under the arms and at the knees to carry him the short distance to his cabin.

Leia followed and opened the door at Veers’ request, before the two officers proceeded into Piett’s sleeping cabin and carefully deposited him in his broad hammock. 

“Please could you remove his jacket and waistcoat?” Leia asked, knowing she wouldn’t be able to lift him to do so. While Veers and Kelly obeyed this directive, Leia removed his shoes and drew the blankets over him to his waist. 

“I’m certain he has a concussion, but I think he’ll do. When Doctor Henley can come up, he should.”

“You’ll stay with him?” Veers asked urgently. 

Leia hesitated. She wanted nothing more, but wasn’t sure if she should be aiding the Doctor with the other wounded.

“I can stay to make certain he is settled. Then I must go and help Doctor Henley, sir.”

The Colonel nodded. “When you leave, send Scrapland in.”

“Scrapland?”

“Gangly midshipman who was with us.”   
  


Oh yes. Leia had seen him around the ship.

“I will, sir.”

She wanted nothing more than for the two officers to leave so she could speak with Piett. 

Veers placed his hand on the Captain’s shoulder. 

“I’ll check with you later, Firmus. Do try not to frighten me like that again. I’m not as young as I once was.”

“Thank you…..Max.”

_ Max? So they were friends then _ . Leia was grateful.

The men left the cabin and at last she and Piett were left to look at each other.

****

His head hurt something awful, and he was incredibly sore all over. But the only thing he could focus on was the fact that her Ladyship was  _ here _ . 

Unless perhaps he was hallucinating. But he didn’t think he was. He’d known Veers. He knew what had happened. He knew the date. He did, didn’t he?   
  


“It is April 7, correct?” he asked her and she nodded.

“Yes, sir.”   


  
“So it is fair to say that my faculties are intact?”

She smiled at him ruefully.

“I am grateful to say so.”

He studied her face, golden brown now from the sun, with a charming raft of freckles over her nose. Those huge brown eyes and long lashes---a face so very feminine, how had they all missed it?

“ _You_ said you would be traveling,” he told her accusingly, and wondered at his boldness to speak so to her. Concussion. Right.

She sighed, carefully wiping away the grime and blood from his forehead. “Technically I _was_ , Captain. This is what I wanted. But it did not last nearly as long as I hoped.”

She moved to his washstand and found the bucket near it that he used for the old shave water.

“What...are you doing?” he asked, puzzled.

“Well, dear Captain, I am still a Surgeon’s mate, and it is very likely you will feel nauseous so I am being prepared.”

“You are Doctor Henley’s assistant,” he breathed. “The one he’s pleased about. Good Lord.”

His brain hurt with all of the thoughts assaulting it in its tender state.

“I am. I’m glad to hear he’s pleased. That man has a complex about saying anything positive.”

Hearing her speak so familiarly of the Doctor….

“You’ve been on my ship,” he told her, lifting a hand to point at her so she would be clear about whom he was speaking. “A woman. Disguised as a boy. Bloody dangerous thing to do.”

Not silly. Because she wasn’t silly. And she looked somewhat chastised, but also…..pleased?   
  


“What…..what did you hope to gain?” he asked. She had not struck him as a girl who would do something like this for a lark.

She flushed slightly. “Nothing. I just….I wanted to do something with  _ meaning _ . And all of you are at sea…”

“All of…. _ us _ ?”

“People I care about. You. My Father, my brother….”

He was concussed. That was no doubt why he felt so inordinately pleased to be counted in that list. 

“But my dear, the risk…” He felt sick thinking of what could have happened to her.

“It was one,” she admitted, and her hand felt cool and lovely on his brow as she smoothed his hair, carefully avoiding the lump. “But you run a good ship, and I knew for certain I must get on yours or not at all. On Luke’s or Father’s I would run far too great a risk that they would recognize me. It was sheer bad luck that you had an opportunity to.”

_ Personally, he was thanking the good Lord that he had. _

“This whole time….?” he marveled, thinking of all she had been doing.

She smiled down at him. “It’s been marvelous. I love your ship. She’s beautiful. I’ve learned so much about both sailing and medicine. And, dear Captain, I’m  _ helping _ . I’m able to be useful at last.” She paused. “Speaking of which I should get you some water.”

She disappeared momentarily and returned with the pitcher and a glass.

Her slim arm was strong around his shoulders as she helped him drink, and he sighed as she eased him back to the pillow. 

“Well we are in a fine pickle now, my Lady.”

“Please don’t call me that. If someone overhears…”   
  


He was curious. “What did you call yourself?”

“I am Liam Naberrie. My mother’s name.”

“All right. But my dear---I beg your pardon---my Lady...No. That doesn’t…..Oh damn and blast, my head hurts!” He raised a hand to his eyes and then pinched the bridge of his nose. 

She watched him and put out her hand to grasp his. “I like ‘my dear’ quite a lot, Captain. That will suffice while we are alone. What are your intentions now?”

He closed his eyes against the throbbing in his skull. Yes indeed. That was the question.

“We are not set to rendezvous with your Father for another two months, my L---my dear. I do not like the idea of revealing we have a woman on board for numerous reasons. The most pressing have to do with letting the world know what you did and ruining your reputation. Obviously, I won't do that. And I have a good crew, that is true, but I cannot speak for all of them, and they are men who have been at sea many months…”

She squeezed his hand gently, and he opened his eyes to look at her.

“Then don’t reveal it, dear Captain. Let me continue as I have been with everyone none the wiser. Once we meet my Father’s fleet, we can arrange a transfer. We can tell people I travelled to Naples and you took me on board there.”

He had to admit that he was inclined to think the same. But now he would have that added worry for her every day….

Something must have shown in his face because she gave him a small smile.

“I have been perfectly safe and content up to now. I shall be even more so, because now you know who I really am. And beside that, I am now in a position to look after you as well.”

_ Certainly not. A lady of her station? _ _  
  
_

“My dear girl,” he said firmly, “It is not your job to look after me.”   
  


“Oh I decided that it was,” she told him airily, gathering her kit and lifting the bucket to place it at his feet in the hammock. “There it is if you need it. I need to go and help the Doctor. We can speak again and decide how to best meet up discreetly.”

_ And it rather seemed as though he was receiving orders from this tiny young woman. _

“Find a reason to join Dr. Henley, when he comes to check on me,” he told her. "I will have thought of something by then. And….”

_ What could he say? She had already been on board without incident…. _

“Please be safe.”

But she must have heard everything he wasn’t saying and patted his shoulder.

“I shall. And same to you. I’m to send in Mr. Scrapland to look after you.”

And she was gone, leaving Piett to marvel at this strange turn his life had taken.

  
  


****

Commander Luke Skywalker waited while the boat approached the side of Artoona with its passengers. 

He was keen to take off his hat and run a hand through his very blonde hair, but that would not suit the dignity of his office. And he certainly would not be doing so in front of the approaching American captain. 

Ozzel had sent him out immediately toward the eastern Mediterranean after the fleeing French ships. While Luke had not sighted those particular vessels, he had spotted a group of smaller enemy ships. 

After seeing action off the Egyptian coast, Luke had been surprised to receive a friendly signal from a small French cutter. It was rather confusing— as though the person signaling was not familiar with British naval procedures. But he was also certain that the French could not know that particular signal.

And sure enough, when he sent some marines to investigate (under the cover of Artoonas guns) he received a curious communique (this time sent properly by one of the signalmen he had sent with them) saying that they had retrieved British prisoners and one…..American?

So Luke waited as the boat drew alongside Artoona and the recovered British came up the side first.

They were thinner than they ought to be, and definitely too pale for seamen in His Majesty’s navy, but only one of them was injured, thank God.

Luke grasped each of their hands, moved by the gratitude in their faces. One man, from Somerset by the sound of him, even threw his arms around Luke in an embrace. His much disgruntled first officer, Antilles, removed him and urged him gently along to be examined by the ship’s doctor.

Finally, the American came aboard, followed by the marines and Luke got a good look at the man. 

He seemed much healthier than his companions, and had that cocky air about him that all Americans seemed to have. Particularly after that business had ended with Yorktown. Luke had been a mere child then and had few memories of the rebellion and its embarrassing consequences for the Empire.

He had dark hair and eyes and carried himself with great confidence for being on a British war vessel.

“Welcome aboard, sir. I am Commander Luke Skywalker,” Luke said, holding out his hand courteously. “Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

“Captain Han Solo,” the other man said, shaking firmly, that sharp nasal accent very clear. “I will not deny that I am rather glad to see you Limeys.”

Next to Luke, Antilles hissed in disapproval at such a nickname, but Luke merely smiled. 

“Well. We are much interested in your story. And we are grateful to have the return of our men. Please join me in my cabin. You must be hungry as well.”   
  


“Starving,” Solo agreed as they made their way across the quarterdeck. “I have to ask, though, what are you going to do with that ship?”

“The cutter?” Luke asked. “I haven’t decided yet. Why?”   
  


“Well. I could use a ship. And I know she’s a bit of a mess at the moment, but I’m rather fond of her. She did get us out of there after all. More like a pigeon than a Falcon at the moment, but I could make something of her.”   
  


They entered the cabin and Wedge spoke for the first time.

“Do you mean to say you have the almighty cheek to claim that ship, Solo?”   
  


“This is Mr. Antilles, my first officer,” Luke said by way of explanation. “He rather feels, and I must say that I agree, that as the British navy rescued you, that ship ought to belong to His Majesty.”

“I think His Majesty has enough possessions at the moment,” Solo replied loftily. “And you have no right to keep me here. We aren’t currently at war with you lot. We already won that one.”   
  


He grinned at them infuriatingly.

Luke drew himself up with great dignity.

“I am not here to discuss what happened with the Rebellion, Captain Solo. You are correct that….”

“War for Independence,” Solo interjected, a spark in his eye.

“I beg your pardon?” Luke said.

“We didn’t _rebel_ , Commander. We declared a War for Independence after your King was too disinterested in treating us justly. Not a rebellion. That’s what the Frenchies are doing.”   
  


“Now look here, you….!”   
  


“Wedge,” Luke admonished his angry friend, holding up a hand. “Captain Solo is entitled to his opinion. It may be a wrong opinion, but he is entitled to it. And I would remind you that he has helped to bring us 11 rescued British subjects. And I am still waiting to hear that tale, Captain, so please sit. Have some food. Water is in the pitcher there.”

Solo lowered himself into a chair and the two officers remained standing. “Thanks. I am…. _was_ , the captain of a merchant ship. I was waylaid off the Egyptian coast, shortly after loading, by several French frigates.”   
  


“When was this?” Luke asked interestedly. Such information would be useful to white squadron for French movements. 

“About a month past.”   
  


Luke exchanged a glance with Wedge. So not long after their encounter with the French off the south coast of that country. He pondered this. It meant that the French presence in the Mediterranean was perhaps larger than originally thought. 

“Hmm. Go on.”   
  


“They took my ship and most of my crew. I didn’t take kindly to that so I was taken to one of their nasty little forts on the Egyptian coast. That’s where I ran into your boys. They were apparently there three months when I arrived. Captured after one of your skirmishes, and their vessel sank.”

“Do you know the name of their ship?” Wedge asked.

“I think the carpenter said they were from the Alderaania. A frigate, I believe.”   
  


So that was what happened. They had suspected as much, but had received no confirmation that she had been sunk. 

“Well. I don’t do well with confinement. So we worked out a plan. I could see that battered French ship from my cell window and determined that we could do something with her if we got away quietly enough.”

“I see.” From what Luke had seen of her through his telescope, that had taken some doing. “I must say that’s braver than I thought for you to come in that wreck.”   
  


“Nice,” Solo said, raising his eyebrows. “Not many captains could have done that, let me tell you! But,” he paused and gulped down some water. “I have to tell you, I couldn’t have done it with out your lads. They are all in a sorry way as you saw, but they pitched in and got her sailing. That carpenter, he was the one trying to help me with your signals so you wouldn’t blow us to pieces.”

Luke appreciated the man’s praise of the British prisoners. 

“Well, Captain Solo, we are indeed grateful. I will consider your request for the ship. We will take some time to get her as seaworthy as possible in three days. Then we must make sail and meet with Admiral Lord Vader in Naples. You are our guest until then, sir.”

Solo cocked an eyebrow at him. “Guest, or do you mean prisoner? You Brits have a way of not exactly saying what you mean.”   
  


Well. He wasn’t wrong.

“I do mean guest, Captain. Mr. Antilles, will you call Mr. Klivian and have him give Captain Solo a cabin?”

“Aye, Captain,” Antilles answered, though Luke could see he was not best pleased and likely would have happily clapped the American in irons.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commander Luke Skywalker looks quite good in uniform I think. :) Oh who am I kidding? They all look great! But he is giving us a rare serious face here. It does happen when one ponders random Americans one finds in the Mediterranean. xD


	9. Lord Vader's Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia and Piett are allowed some weeks of secret happiness. But someone is suspicious.....

Leia returned with Doctor Henley some hours later after tiring and grim work up in the fo’csle where sickbay was. They had both paused to throw on fresh clothing before making their way to Piett’s cabin to check on the Captain’s status. 

Ozzel had been bustling around on deck, getting in everyone’s way generally and complaining to anyone who would listen that this really was the Captain’s duty, and implying that it was most inconsiderate of Piett to have been injured. 

Veers stalked about grimly, getting more done and met her eyes briefly, acknowledging her with a small nod.

_ High regard indeed. _

She and Henley entered the cabin and despite the open window, she knew Piett had lost the battle with nausea from his concussion. 

Scrapland rose as they came into the sleeping cabin.

“Doctor, sir. I can empty this over the side. By your leave, Captain,” the young man said, turning to Piett who was looking rather ill and too white under that tan.

“Dismissed, Mr. Scrapland,” he murmured. 

Henley was too tired to make much comment, and examined the Captain with swift and sure hands. 

Finally he turned to Leia. “Concussion and possibly bruised ribs, but happily nothing more. Well done in the diagnosis.”   
  


Leia was surprised at this open praise and Piett gave her a small smile. 

“Now, Captain. You are to remain in bed for the next 24 hours. I will take no chances with a head wound like this and moving about would be foolish indeed. If all is well after that, you may rise, but you will need to be off duty another two days.”   
  


Leia saw Piett’s dismay. “Doctor, that is not possible. After the damage the ship has taken…”   
  


“After the damage  _ you _ have taken, Captain, you will listen to your medical officer. And I say you stay here.”

“I will need to know the ship’s reports, surely Doctor….”

“It would not be advisable for you to be reading, Captain.”

But Leia saw that Piett had another reason for bringing this up as he looked to her once more.

“Well then, someone could read them to me. You, boy, you seem sharp enough. Can you read?”

“Yes, sir,” Leia replied with a very placid expression.

Henley considered this. “Well. That is true. Mr. Naberrie could bring up your medicine and check your injuries as well.” He swung around on Leia.

“You need to understand the highly confidential nature of the reports, Mr. Naberrie. One word in the wrong place….”

“Quite so,” Piett said gravely. “I would need your word of honor not to repeat what you read.”

  
  
“Absolutely, sir,” Leia replied earnestly.

Piett blanched suddenly as the ship rolled lightly. 

“Hmm. Yes, this is not going to be a restful time for you,” the Doctor told him, and Leia supposed that may be as sympathetic as Henley got. “I don’t want you alone. Naberrie, you’ll stay with him through the night. I’ll send Dawlish to relieve you in the morning.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Leia answered, sorry for Piett, but glad to be allowed to be at his side. 

Henley departed to get some well earned rest and Leia went to request a pitcher of water from one of the ship’s boys. She returned to see that Piett had an arm over his eyes and a very set jaw.

“Is it the pain or the nausea?” she asked sympathetically.

“Both,” he ground out. “My dear, it may be best for you if you tried to make yourself comfortable on the window bench in the great cabin.”

She scoffed at this suggestion. “I am no shrinking flower, Captain. You should know that. Of course I shall do my duty and remain with you. Would it help to open a window in here? Get air on your face?”

“Please.”   
  


She trotted out to the great cabin and shut the window Scrapland had opened before lifting a chair and carrying it into Piett’s sleeping quarters. She opened the window near his head and he drew in appreciative breaths.

“Are you hungry at all?” Leia asked him, and knew from his expression that food was not a desirable thought.

“All right,” she said hastily. “Tell me if you are.”

The night was indeed miserable for her Captain, but Leia liked to think it might have helped him a little to have her there. 

He fell into an exhausted sleep in the early hours, and Leia closed the window once more and curled up with a blanket in the chair next to him. 

_ If the high society of London could see her now. _

Leia slept.

  
  


*****

The next several weeks were some of the happiest that Leia could recall. Piett recovered very well, but they kept the cover of his needing her to deliver medicine and read reports so that he could have an excuse to see her privately once a day.

Reports were never read after the first three days. Instead, they talked or played cards or looked at maps, spread on his table in the great cabin. 

Leia loved maps and these were wonderful---the big naval ones that he used with his officers as they planned routes and tactics. 

She discovered that this quiet and reserved man had quite the sense of humor, and she did her utmost to make his mouth curl in that little smile when they were together. 

She in turn shared her love for her twin with him and thus, the great grief it had been when Luke went to sea with their Father. She told him of beautiful homes, and horses, and travels, but also the emptiness and longing for the mother she had never known. 

He was very good at listening, but she had to work harder to get him to speak of himself.

She learned that he had provided for his family from a young age in the unmerciful boroughs of Manchester.

He had taught himself to read, and would stay up late to do so as he worked from dawn to dusk. He had snatched learning where he could, studying in the small moments afforded him, and Leia’s respect rose as she realized that he had passed the exams to enter the Naval Academy without the benefit of regular schooling. 

She already knew he had lost all family many years ago now. She recalled the grief that had flashed swiftly across his face when he spoke of it. She saw too the deep pleasure when he spoke of receiving her letters and realized this was a man who longed for connection. Friendship. It hurt her to think of his years of solitude and she vowed silently to herself, that while he lived, he would have a friend in her.

He was most animated when speaking of ships and tactics. Leia almost felt she received private tutoring in sailing when they were together. He often cleared the table so that he could demonstrate something like a larboard tack with a teaspoon acting as the ship and a saucer to show wind direction.

Leia felt abysmally slow in understanding this, but he was a patient teacher and she would happily struggle through trying to understand points of sail when it brought him such joy to explain it.

He was delighted when she spoke to him of music (she played the violin) and was keen to hear her play. 

“Someday, Captain of mine,” she laughed. 

He was rather well versed in various composers and pieces, though he admitted that he didn’t play an instrument.

“I just love music,” he said simply as they perched together on the window bench in the warm sunlight that bathed the great cabin. “I am utter rubbish when it comes to producing it in any form. But I love to listen.”   


  
“We shall have to go to a concert then, when we return to England,” she told him and watched his expression falter slightly.

“That would be lovely, my dear.”   
  


“What did you mean by that?” she asked him.

“By what?”   
  


“Just now. You looked….sad.”   
  


He smiled at her ruefully. “It is merely that I do not know how…..all our circumstances will work out, my L---my dear.”

“If you are concerned about what the toffee nosed class would think….” she began.

“There is that too,” he agreed. “But I was thinking more that your Father would not approve. If he still allows me to Captain a ship after he discovers that you were aboard.”   
  


Leia did not like the cold chill that settled over her at this. She had not even thought……

“He will not punish you for something I did, Captain,” she told him firmly. And her Father was just. He  _ was, _ and he surely wouldn’t take Piett’s ship because she had snuck onto it. 

“A Captain needs to know the workings and crew of his vessel,” he said. “That is my responsibility.”   
  


She placed a hand on his arm and looked at him earnestly. “I am the Admiral’s daughter,” she said. “I also know how to take responsibility. And this is mine. Please do not let it trouble you, dear Captain. My Father will be reasonable.”

He still looked somewhat doubtful, but shook off his melancholy.

“How are the wounded progressing?” he asked, turning matters to her continued work with Henley.

Leia marveled at herself, that she had come so far in being adjusted to the wounds that she had dressed under the Doctor’s watchful eye. Many had been gruesome, and she had been forced to assist in her first amputation after their engagement----a hapless marine who lost his leg below the knee. 

However, Henley had been swift and skilled, and put her small hands to use in tying off the arteries. She was able to distance herself when doing so, to recall the medical text he had given her and approach the procedure in a more institutional manner, as though doing a task in a class. 

The man was doing very well indeed, and they had been able to remove the ligatures without incident. Leia felt some proprietary pride for him and had been present when Colonel Veers and Sergeant Ellery had come down to help their man stand on his foot for the first time.

“Very well, Captain. Private Mason should be able to be fitted with a prosthesis soon.”

He nodded and moved to pour the tea, which had been steeping while they spoke. He had begun taking tea while they were together even though it was much earlier than was his wont. She realized that he had begun doing so for her sake---tea was not often served in the mess, coffee being the brew of choice for the sailors and marines. 

Piett was attempting to give her some little niceties that she would enjoy as the Lady Skywalker, and she felt another surge of affection for the man. 

“Recall not to stand like that, my dear. More akimbo, legs apart, in the way that boys do.”

He had been attempting to give her rudimentary lessons in how men moved as opposed to women. It was very practical advice, but it also caused both of them to break into quickly suppressed laughter at her attempts. 

She obeyed.

“Have you been swinging your arms more?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She had, which went very much against the proper training in movement she had been given as a young lady.

“How is this?” she responded, moving across the great cabin, swinging her arms as loosely as possible and taking slightly longer strides than she normally would.

She turned to face his highly amused countenance.

“Well. It is certainly…..different. I don’t know that I have seen the boys look quite like that….”

She sighed. “Captain of mine, I am  _ trying… _ .”   
  


“I know my dear, I know. I apologize. Let us just say that I cannot picture a woman moving that way, so one hopes the others will continue in ignorance.”

She came back to him, pleased internally to have made him smile so.

“They seem to so far.”

“While I still find your presence here rather terrifying, I cannot deny that you have been outstanding my dear. I confess that part of me shall miss you.”

She smiled at him, accepting the tea in a mug. “Only part, dear Captain?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “The most important part---my heart. My head tells me it will be a bloody good thing to get you safely on land once more.”   
  


“You are sounding a little like my Father,” she told him, but he smiled at that.

“Good. If it means he and I feel similarly about your safety.”

_ How could she possibly explain the worries she had to school firmly about **their** safety? _

He read her face.

“My dear….” he set his mug down to stand near her. “For a spirit such as yours, I can only imagine how difficult it is to be on the sidelines. If all of my crew had your fortitude, I could command the seas.”

She smiled at him, appreciating his empathy. 

“But just as you feel concern for our safety, please know that it is mutual. Those terrible injuries the men suffered not long ago give me nightmares for you. To think of you being so hurt….”

He stopped and she reached for his hand to clasp it in both of hers.

“Thank you, Captain. I do know. So then. We shall worry about one another, attempt to shove it down and fail miserably, and carry on anyway.”

He moved his hand to grasp hers and raise it to his lips. “We are English, my dear. That is how we live.”

  
  


*****

Piett looked up in surprise as Doctor Henley was admitted to his cabin. It was three days after his discussion with her Ladyship regarding returning her to land.

They were en route to Gibraltar, having been tasked with escorting a pair of British merchant ships to that location safely. He was to then return to rendezvous once more with Admiral Lord Vader and make their way to receive orders in Italy. 

“Doctor. Is all well?”

“If by that you mean my patients, Captain, then yes, all is proceeding well. It would, wouldn’t it? I am the physician.”   
  


Piett schooled his features. He had grown used to Henley’s eye watering ego now, and given that the man was indeed as good as he boasted, he supposed that he deserved to preen to an extent. Still…..

“Quite. Well then, what do you wish to see me about? I assure you I have been sleeping more. You may ask Mr. Venka if you do not believe me.”   
  


“I am not here about your pathetic care for your own well being, Captain Piett.  _ That _ is a topic that we can address another time.”   
  


Piett sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I am here on a rather…..delicate and grave matter.”

“All right then, Doctor. Drink?”

“I think I may need one, Captain. You likely will as well.”

This was very foreboding indeed. Piett moved to his cabinet and found the brandy decanter, pouring two tumblers with a modest amount.

“Does the Admiral need to be present for this?” he asked, taking a sip and standing near his desk.

“For all our sakes, I should think not,” Henley said emphatically, and Piett felt a chill in his stomach.

_ What had happened? _

_   
_   
“You have me concerned, Doctor.”

Henley took a big swallow and coughed once. “I am just going to state it plainly, Captain, rather than ease into it with gentler rhetoric.”

“Yes, well, this is unusual for you,” Piett replied dryly. 

Henley snorted.

“Captain, I believe that you have a woman on board the ship.”

A beat.

Piett felt numb and detached.  _ How...? _

“What makes you think such an extraordinary thing, Doctor?” he managed, sipping at the brandy as his mind turned over furiously. 

Henley gave him the most condescending look in his arsenal.

“I am a medical doctor, Captain, not a rude country veterinarian. I think I can recognize the difference between a man and a woman. And she has been working closely with me for some time. I have had growing suspicions and I am certain I am correct.”

_ Well damn and blast it all to bloody hell.  _

“Who then, do you believe to be a woman?” he asked, finishing the brandy and bracing himself. 

“Young ‘Mr. Naberrie’,” Henley replied, watching his face keenly.

Piett set the glass down deliberately, and placed his hands behind his back. 

“State your case then, Doctor. Give me the reasons that this boy is apparently not a boy.”

_ Could he perhaps talk the Doctor out of this belief? _ _   
  
_

Henley gave him a curious look, then set his own glass down.

“Her voice fluctuates between a deeper tone and a very light one. I at first attributed this to puberty, but it is not the same. The way she moves is so graceful. And those movements are both feminine, but also speak of training. She is no mere country girl.”

Piett thought unprintable things.

“And I have had the opportunity to work with her closely---she has no Adam’s apple”   
  


Piett managed to speak despite a very dry mouth. “I have heard….that such a thing happens on occasion to some men.”

Henley lifted an eyebrow at him. 

“It is a very rare condition indeed, Captain. However, we will know shortly. She is coming here to deliver your headache medicine. And then we will know.”

_ She was coming….. _

A knock sounded and then she was admitted by the marine at his door, and they were left to stare at each other.

“Is….is something wrong?” her Ladyship asked, doing her utmost to maintain a calm facade. “I didn’t know you would be here too, Doctor.”

“I imagine not,” Henley responded gruffly. “I am here to ask the Captain if he knew that he had a girl aboard his ship.” Piett watched as her Ladyship’s face grew pale, but other than that she gave no outward sign. 

“There’s….a girl, sir?” she said turning to him, and Piett inclined his head.

“So the Doctor believes.”   
  


“So I  _ know _ , Captain. Further, given the way you two are looking at each other at the moment, I also believe that you knew this already Captain Piett.”

Both of them turned to look at Henley, who waved an irritable hand. 

“I am the smartest individual on this vessel. Of  _ course _ I was going to notice eventually.”   
  


Piett felt sure that everyone in the room must hear his thundering heart.

“What…..” her Ladyship licked her lips and tried again. “What do you intend to do, Doctor?”

Henley sighed longsufferingly before staring Piett in the eye.

“I know that you are a man of integrity and honor, Captain, so I am assured that there is no nefarious purpose in hiding this young woman on board.”

“Good heavens,” Piett said faintly, this thought having not occurred to him in the slightest. 

“Further you have acted much like her father would in protecting her thus far, though I am still mystified as to  _ why _ .”

A pause.

“ _ Are _ you her father?”

PIett nearly choked. “ _ No _ ! I have no children. Doctor…”

But he was struck by the sudden wounded expression on the face of her Ladyship at his emphatic denial.

He softened his tone and his gaze as he held her eyes. “Though I would be very proud to have a daughter such as this. She has shown great ingenuity and fortitude. Look at all she has done with you, Doctor.”

“Thank you, Captain,” said the girl smiling once more. 

Henley swung his piercing stare to the petite form of the girl.

“You have come aboard His Majesty’s vessel young lady in the guise of a man. It is a most curious thing to do. Are you in danger? Are you fleeing from someone? It is because of that possibility I have hesitated to bring this to the Captain. But if this was done for a lark, I must tell you….”

“It was not done lightly!” her Ladyship flared. “I am no silly school girl. I think I have proved that by now, Doctor.”

Henley tapped a finger on his thigh considering. “This is true. So then, who are you, young woman?"

  
  
She flicked her eyes to his once more and Piett gave a ‘go on’ gesture in resignation.

“I am Leia Organa,” she said regally, and even in the rough sea clothes she exuded grace and breeding.

“Leia….” Henley was frowning, putting it together…..

“Lady Leia Organa Skywalker is the full title,” she said. “I am Lord Vader’s daughter.”

Henley took a very long thirty seconds of looking at her before he shifted his attention to Piett.

“I could use another shot of that brandy.”

“By all means,” he replied, gesturing to the decanter.

Henley gave himself a generous tumbler and took a large mouthful. 

“And _what_ in the name of all that is holy possessed you to do such a thing as this?” he asked when he had gathered his wits.

“I do not have to justify my reasons to you,” her ladyship said regally.

Piett smiled before recalling that these were very grave circumstances for them both. 

Henley set down his glass before crossing his arms and Piett recognized a brewing storm.

“Do you realize, girl…”

“It’s ‘your Ladyship’,” put in Piett, because some protocols really should be in place here if they were having this discussion. 

Henley gave him a look that could freeze sea water.

“Do you realize, _ your Ladyship _ , the utter mess you have created here? That if a word of this gets out, most of the officers on this ship will be utterly ruined? The Captain will be court martialed. If your father doesn’t have him shot.”

“Doctor…” Piett said, putting out a quelling hand, for her Ladyship had gone even more pale and shot him a terrified look, taking a step toward him as though she could stand between him and danger.

_ A Skywalker indeed. _

“I….I...didn’t think of that. I….am so very sorry. Captain, I would never have….” she gathered herself. “My Father would never do such a thing. He is just and reasonable. It was all my idea. The Captain didn’t know until mere weeks ago.”   
  


But Piett was taking hope from the Doctor’s attitude.

“Does this mean, ahem, that is to say….do you intend to help me keep this a secret, Doctor?”

“Good God man I should have thought that was obvious!” Henley exclaimed. “I clearly gave you credit for more intelligence than you have. If this got out, it would be ruin for her Ladyship’s reputation, and the death of your career and good name. Heavens above man, why would I want that? Of course I’m keeping the damn nuisance a secret.”

A beat.

“It’s  _ Lady _ Damn Nuisance if you please,” remarked her Ladyship calmly. Piett choked on a laugh and turned to give himself a small amount more of brandy.

“I shall have to think up an experiment to conduct which will keep me into the wee hours down on the orlop,” Henley continued, beginning to pace. “That way I can have an excuse to set a hammock up there to sleep every few nights. Keep a better eye on you.”

Piett felt an immense load lift from his shoulders. He was not alone with this secret and further, the Doctor could help ensure more protection for the girl where he could not.

She smiled at Henley. “Thank you, Doctor. That is kind.”   
  


“Kind? Kind? Necessary, girl---your Ladyship.” He paused once more to look at Piett.

“No wonder you look haggard---you’ve been worrying over this one as well as all the other duties.”

Piett raised an eyebrow at him. “I wouldn’t characterize my appearance that way, Doctor. Actually…”

“Haggard,” Henley emphasized with a pointed finger. “So what was the plan from here? No, let me guess.” 

Piett had opened his mouth and shut it again, sharing an amused glance with her Ladyship as the Doctor plowed on.

“We rendezvous with Lord Vader in three weeks time. You were going to quietly transfer her to his ship then weren’t you? And then explain her sudden appearance on her Father’s ship….ah, she travelled to Italy, yes?”

“That was indeed our thought,” Piett answered.

“Well. It’s not terrible given that I didn’t have any input to it.”

“Can we all agree to carry on as normal then?” her Ladyship asked looking between the two of them. “That it would be safest for all of us?”

Piett nodded and the Doctor grunted. “We’re going to have to aren’t we? And do you want to know the worst thing about this _bloody_ situation?”

PIett and the girl waited.

“I’ve lost the best surgeon’s mate I ever had! Damn and blast it!”

Her Ladyship smiled at him. “Well. That’s….thank you Doctor. Perhaps we could work more with Mr. Dawlish. He seemed promising.”

Henley whirled on her. “You do not get to tell me my business, my Lady.”

Another beat.

“But we should try and work on Dawlish in the next few weeks. What was  _ that _ smile for, Captain? I assure you none of this matter merits smiling!”   
  


Piett smoothed his expression.

“No indeed, Doctor. Just….her Ladyship seems to know what to do….”

Henley growled and placed his hands on his hips. 

“You have nothing more to say Captain Piett. I can see that she has you wrapped around that tiny finger of hers. Hopeless.” He shook his head, and the Lady gave Piett a tentative smile.

“All right. We must leave before this meeting goes on too long and seems suspicious. ‘Mr. Naberrie’ you are with me. Captain, you just get us to Italy without incident.”

Piett snorted. “I command this ship, thank you, Doctor, I do not need your orders for that.”

“Debatable,” Henley cast over his shoulder and then he hustled her Ladyship out.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to reiterate how much fun it has been to have Leia and Henley working together like this. Also, Henley as a crusty British ship's doctor is one of my favorite iterations of him thus far. :)


	10. The Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett engages the enemy, but whether the French or his own Admiral are the more deadly remains to be seen....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Articles of War were the code of conduct that British officers and seamen were expected to hold to. Most of the punishments for these offenses were between flogging and death. It was very harsh indeed and during time of war in particular, things could be quite nasty should one be caught breaking the articles.  
> It was a harsh life in many ways, though discipline was indeed crucial to maintain.  
> Every Sunday, the men were assembled and the Articles were read by the Captain. If you had a fair leader, it was likely that death wasn't on the table. But if the Captain was a petty tyrant, men could indeed die.

The rendezvous with Lord Vader’s fleet was delayed when Devastator received orders to escort two British merchant vessels to Gibraltar to ensure safe passage through the Mediterranean. 

Inexplicably, this delay seemed to please the Captain who would normally have been keen to be on his way, and impatient to play nursemaid to civilian ships.

Venka couldn’t account for the man’s good mood especially given that Ozzel was as much of a boil as ever for everyone’s existence. 

Piett didn’t flaunt it, but Venka had come to know him well enough to see that something was making his Captain, well, _happy_ he supposed. 

And the first lieutenant certainly was not complaining. Lord knew the man deserved to be happy after the hell the Admiral had been putting him through. He just couldn’t see any conceivable reason for it. 

It was in the way Piett would clasp his hands behind his back and rock slightly up on his toes above the helmsman. Or the quiet ‘Good morning, Tom,’ Venka would receive. 

Again, it was not as though Piett had not been courteous before. But this was…. _different_. He knew that Veers saw it too, but Venka didn’t quite feel that he could ask the Marine Colonel about it. Both of them were happy for Piett’s content, but he knew both of them were waiting for it to be taken away from the Captain. For Ozzel to discover whatever it was that made Piett give that little half smile to the dolphins off their bow, or nod in so friendly a fashion to the surgeon’s mate as he scurried by on an errand.

Well. First Lieutenant Thomas Venka was very capable of keeping his mouth shut and letting other people’s business be their business. 

About a days’ sail from Gibraltar a mast was spotted on the horizon, and shortly a Spanish ship was signalling them in apparently friendly fashion. 

Piett would have run out the guns, but Ozzel over rode this, prattling about diplomacy. Veers’ marines stood very ready indeed as the ship came alongside, and the Admiral welcomed what turned out to be a Spanish governor aboard. 

A very effusive and handsome invitation was made for Ozzel to join the Governor at his palace before the Devastator and her charges passed through the straits of Gibraltar. 

Venka exchanged a discreet look with his Captain. Neither of them trusted the Spanish in the least, but Ozzel was making pleased noises at the prospect of fresh Spanish cuisine and comfortable beds.

“Yes indeed,” he declared turning to Piett. “We shall be glad of the hospitality. Set the course, Captain.”

“Sir,” Piett attempted, with a foul look at the flashy Governor. “I do not feel comfortable doing so. I must advise…..”

“I did not _ask_ your advice, Piett. I _told_ you to do something. Follow my orders, sir.”

PIett pressed his lips together, but Venka knew his Captain would not embarrass His Majesty’s Navy with arguing in front of the Spanish.

“Yes, Admiral.”

Accordingly, they set course to follow the Spanish ship and in three hours time, they had reached a small harbor on the south eastern coast of that country. 

Ozzel disembarked for the Governor’s palace, just visible at the top of the cliff above the harbor.

“You will stay in harbor, Captain,” he informed Piett, straightening his gleaming sword at his side. Naturally he was going ashore in full ceremonial dress. 

“Sir, respectfully, it is a dangerous position if the enemy….”

“The Governor assures me there have been no French ships through here in days, Piett. He is keen to be friendly to the British and I am very happy to smooth the relations. This is why _I_ am going ashore and _you_ are not. Stay in the harbor.”

“Yes Admiral,” the Captain answered stiffly.

Venka was impressed with Piett’s control over the ridiculous nature of the order.

_They would be ducks in a barrel if any enemy ships appeared. And he didn’t trust a Spaniard as far as he could throw one….._

Ozzel departed in all his pompous glory, where he was conveyed by donkey (and Venka knew he was not the only officer to be watching this spectacle through their telescopes) up to the mansion.

The Captain was very tense now, and paced the quarterdeck, always with his face to the open sea. On occasion, Veers would come up to join him and the two would confer, the Marine colonel usually departing with a quick clap to Piett’s shoulder.

Venka was exceedingly grateful for Veers. And if one had told him a year ago that he would have any sort of positive thoughts about a lobster, he would have told such a person to boil their head.

But fate had clearly ordained this odd friendship between the tall Colonel and the short Captain, and it had proved most beneficial to the efficiency of the Devastator in action as well as to the general mood of the second rate. 

It had also helped tip the balance in the favor of the Captain when it came to the approval of his crew. He had now led their crew for over 8 months, and despite Ozzel’s best efforts to perpetuate contempt and his class divisions, the men could see for themselves every day the mettle of their Captain. 

Venka was able to breathe somewhat easier in regard to Piett’s safety---that incident when he had ‘fallen’ down the ladder could have been terrible, and Venka was certain it was deliberate. 

Venka moved to join Piett at the rail as the Captain paused once more with his face to the late afternoon sun. 

“Thoughts, sir?” he asked carefully. When Piett was tense he could be quite terse and Venka did not wish to add to the burdens the man already shouldered.

“I am thinking, Lieutenant, that I do not trust Spanish information on French fleet movements.”

“I was having similar thoughts, sir.”

Piett rested a hand on the rail, drumming his fingers restlessly. “Mr. Venka. I realize that I may be over cautious at the moment, but I’m going to go with my gut here. I want the crew ready.”

“Beat to quarters, sir?” he asked, immediately, glad to have an action to complete.

“Not yet, Tom. Clear the decks.”

Venka gave the order and the men leapt to obey--clearly just as glad to be ready.

The men scrambled with dexterity up to the halyards and Veers came to join them at the rail.

“What is it, Firmus?” he asked in a low voice.

“Just…..it doesn’t feel right, Veers. I don’t trust this entire situation. I think we have two enticing prizes across the way there and only one warship to guard them. This location….well, it’s a trap, that’s what it feels like. I want to be ready.”

“All right. I trust your sixth sense, Captain. My men will be standing by.”

“Thank you, Max,” Piett replied very quietly.

“Mr. Kelly have the signalman communicate with Argos and North Star. Tell them to stay alert for our signal if you please.”

“Aye, Captain.”

And just as seven bells rang out for the afternoon watch, Piett’s caution paid off.

The Captain suddenly whipped around and snapped “Weigh anchor! Take us out of harbor north east by east! Signal the Governor’s mansion!”

The ship leapt into action, and slowly Devastator began to move.

“Signal Argos and North Star! Tell them to weigh anchor and make for the mouth of the harbor on the larboard side!”

Venka had his telescope to his eye now and saw two masts coming over the horizon toward them.

“French frigates, by God,” he breathed. “Those lying bastards.”

“Anything from the mansion?” Piett called.

“No, Captain.”

He pressed his lips together and exchanged a look with his first officer. They couldn’t delay.

The west wind filled their sails and Devastator moved smoothly forward until she was at the mouth of the harbor. 

“Mr. Venka!” Piett clipped. “We will follow a starboard tack if you please along the coastline. At my signal I want her ready to go both sheets aft and run before the wind, please.”

“Aye, sir,” Venka said, not quite clear as to what Piett may have in mind. But those were his orders, this was his Captain, and he would trust him.

  
  
  


***

Piett watched the frigates drawing ever closer in their attempt to trap them in the harbor. But Devastator had the wind advantage and she was moving sweetly beneath him. They may be able to manage….

He felt a chill as his eye picked up something else further in the distance toward the horizon.

Well they could very well be blowed. That was a French ship of the line or he would resign his commission. Three to one. Not impossible odds but a steep task.

It solidified his tactical decision, however.

“Beat to quarters!” he yelled, and the drums sounded, almost in tandem with his wildly thundering heart. 

He met Veers’ eyes, the Colonel standing on the main deck, ordering his men to readiness. 

“I’ll have your Marines on both railings, Colonel!” Piett called and Veers gave this instruction, the red coats lining both rails.

“Run out the guns, both sides if you please, Mr. Venka.”

“Aye, sir. Run out the guns!” he hollered down and Piett could hear this order echoed from the gun captains on the upper deck.

His eyes found a white faced boy near the helmsman. 

“Get below, Mr. Naberrie,” he ordered, and she gazed at him a half second more, brown eyes massive in her face before she nodded.

“Aye, Captain.”

He checked the position of the frigates once more, and as he had hoped, one was now splitting off to the larboard in order to trap the enticing merchant ships hovering at the mouth of the harbor as Piett had instructed.

_Good. Now if their captains could hold their nerve…._

“Mr. Venka, I intend to take her in between those frigates. We have a second rate approaching.”

“Between…..That is aye, Captain.”

He could feel the trepidation, but he was counting on the starboard frigate to turn toward them…..any moment now….

The enemy ship moved toward them.

“Sheets aft!” he bellowed.

His well trained crew obeyed and Devastator turned smoothly, picking up the speed he knew she would as she ran directly before the wind, speeding toward the frigates now.

“Steady!”

He could see the French captain must have realized Piett’s intentions to even his odds as he tried to bring his ship to a close haul, but he did not have the wind.

Veers was yelling at his Marines and then they were coming between the ships, so close that Piett could see the French commanders on their own quarter decks.

“Fire!” he roared and Devastator rolled both her broadsides into the ships on either side of her, as Veers’ redcoats targeted the gun crews and the helmsmen on the enemy ships.

It would be close indeed, and Piett was almost holding his breath as Devastator scudded between the two reeling frigates, but she made it through with a few feet to spare between the mainyards. 

The frigates tried to answer and he felt the damage to the stern of Devastator as some of the shot hit home, but they sped out from between the two badly wounded ships and toward the French second rate. 

He could hear the reload orders below him, and he gauged their speed as the deafening sound of the guns being run out once more echoed through the ship. 

“Close the distance!” he called. The French ship was close hauled and Piett bore down on her with fierce intent. He could feel it in the very deck boards, and knew that his men felt it too. The might of the British navy was being challenged and they never did better than when the odds were against them.Venka looked openly eager, and Kelly was flushed with excitement. 

“Starboard side if you please, Colonel!” he yelled to Veers and his friend gave him a small smile, the smile of a predator, the smile of battle joy and brotherhood, and Piett found himself returning it.

“Aye, Captain.”

And then they engaged. Devastator fired first, her fierce attack splintering the side of the French ship. Piett felt the deck shudder under him as his own ship took some damage in the less effective return fire, and they were close enough that he could have boarded her if he so desired. The Marines were causing catastrophe on the French deck and Piett realized quite suddenly that the French Captain had been hit.

With a lack of discipline that he had seen characterize the French naval forces quite often, the officers were scrambling around their stricken leader and the ship, the Liberte’ Piett saw, drifted for a moment before a chain of command resumed.

“Come about!” Piett called, preparing to give her the larboard guns, but Liberte’ herself was fleeing and as he came about she took a full tack before the wind and sped out of his reach.

A cheer went up from the deck.

“Mr. Baldwin I’ll have order if you please!” Piett bellowed, and the men quieted as they made their way back toward the harbor.

He could see that one of the frigates was a completely lost cause. Their larboard cannons had dealt her a death blow and she was listing heavily to one side. Even as he watched through the telescope she went over, her main mast breaking off as she did so.

“Poor devils,” Venka breathed near him. “Shall we lower the boats sir? For survivors?”

“When we’re close enough, Mr. Venka,” Piett agreed. 

The other frigate was putting out boats herself, but her mizzen mast had been splintered and he could see the heavy damage he had inflicted on her hull. 

The French boats retrieved what survivors they could before fleeing back to the ship and the frigate limped away from him.

“Do we pursue, sir?” Kelly asked, his eagerness like that of a hound on the hunt.

“No, Mr. Kelly,” Piett answered. “Our primary orders are to defend and escort our merchant ships at present. We will report the encounter, of course, when we reassemble.”

As the ship returned to harbor, he could hear faint cheering and realized the crews of the merchant ship were wildly waving their hats and cheering at Devastator’s return.

Piett raised an eyebrow. “Signal the captains, if you please, Mr. Venka. Tell them to return to harbor.”

“Aye, Captain,” Venka said, smiling a little.

Piett took reports on the damage to their ship as the helmsman piloted them smoothly back to the main dock where a gilded figure was waiting, along with numerous other Spanish nobles. 

_Oh_. 

Piett had almost forgotten about his Admiral in the tension of battle. He would be displeased, but surely….

If Piett had waited they would have been sunk and their merchant ships taken. He knew this beyond doubt.

As they docked and anchored, Ozzel entered his boat and approached Devastator. 

Veers was quite suddenly at his elbow.

“And what will our esteemed Admiral think of your quick thinking in saving us all, do you suppose?” the Colonel murmured.

“I think he will be displeased that I did not wait for him to see our signal and return to the ship,” Piett sighed, speaking softly. It was entirely possible that Ozzel would even reprimand him, but Piett would take it as it meant they all lived to fight another day.

“Pipe the Admiral, Mr. Baldwin,” he ordered, and Ozzel came over the side, flanked by his aide and another lieutenant.

“Captain!” Ozzel snapped the moment his foot touched the deck, and he didn’t bother returning Piett’s salute.

“What, sir, was the meaning of your actions?”

Piett wasn’t quite sure how to answer this, feeling that it had been rather obvious.

“Sir. I took action to defend our merchant ships.”

“Did I or did I not give you a direct order to remain in harbor, _Captain_?”

Piett heard Venka cough in disbelief behind him. The men around them were clearly wondering why their Captain was not receiving praise for his actions.

“You did, sir, but we could not have anticipated the arrival of three French warships, sir.”

Well. 

They _could_ and he _had_ but he was not going to say that to Ozzel.

“You could have remained here, Captain, and waited for me to come aboard in order to direct the battle. Instead, you disobeyed a direct order to seek glory for yourself!”

“Sir,” Piett said, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding at Ozzel’s triumphant manner. “I must protest. I did no such thing….!”

“Admiral,” interjected Veers, “There was no other action to take, sir. We would have been trapped here….”

“I did not ask for input from the _Marines_ , Colonel Veers,” Ozzel said smiling cruelly. 

“Did you or did you not disobey a _direct order_ from your Admiral, Captain?”

It was utterly silent around them. Everyone could see where Ozzel was going with this.

Even Piett was stunned. Surely the man didn’t despise him so much that he would charge him with….

“I…...did sir, but….”

“Colonel Veers. You will place Captain Piett under arrest pending court martial for disobeying orders during time of war, displaying contempt for his superior officer, and behavior unbecoming an officer.”

_All of which could spell death for him._

“Sir….” Veers protested, but Piett could see that Ozzel was on the warpath.

“You will obey my order, Colonel, or you will join him.”

“Max,” Piett said very softly.

Everyone within a five foot radius of Veers could feel his wrath, but he straightened himself.

“Yes, Admiral. If you would, Captain.”

Piett turned with him, mind whirling as they moved toward his cabin.

“Where do you think you’re going, Colonel?” Ozzel snarled. and they stopped to turn and stare at the Admiral.

“I….am placing the Captain under arrest, sir. In his cabin.”

“Oh no. He gets no special treatment for being an officer. You will clap him in irons in the hold Colonel, like any other criminal.”

There was audible angry murmuring, and Piett knew that at all costs he must prevent a mutiny.

“Mr. Venka!” he snapped. “You will quiet those men, sir. There is to be no murmuring on my ship, is that understood, Lieutenant?”

He met his first officer’s angry eyes, but he knew that Tom understood. If Ozzel wished to play this hand, Piett needed to have his crew in line to have any chance at a defense.

“Aye, Captain,” Venka responded, eyes still furious.

“Take him below,” Ozzel ordered, and Piett moved through his men toward the ladder with Veers at his back.


	11. Four Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett does not have a very nice time. But he also has a group of people who will not let him go through this alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a bit earlier due to a crazy busy day. I'm so loving hearing from you all and I'm glad you're enjoying!! Thank you!!

Leia stared down at what she was mixing in the stone bowl and realized that she had been moving the pestle aimlessly for some time.

“You’re no good to me if you aren’t keeping your head on the job, girl,” Doctor Henley said, but his voice was oddly gentle and Leia was snapped out of her churning thoughts as he spoke.

“I….sorry, how much more did you need me to crush this?”

He came and looked over her shoulder. “Another minute should do it.”

She obeyed, imagining that she was beating Ozzel but it didn’t help, not really.

Because the reality was her Captain had been locked in the hold for 24 hours now, and she had no idea how he was being treated. 

It was bad enough that the oaf had ordered him to be confined there at all, but to be placed in irons like a common criminal or a pirate? It was disgraceful. It was cruel.

Further, she had heard that Ozzel had placed the Master in charge of giving Piett food and water, and she didn’t trust that oily sycophant as far as she could throw him, and that was not at all. 

She finished what Henley had asked her to do and made up her mind to confide her plan to him.

“Doctor,” she began, “I intend….”

“Yes, yes, I know. I have seen this brewing all day. You’re going to our Captain. Well I can’t stop you, your Ladyship, and I must confess it would do me good to know how he is as well.”   
  


“Can  _ you  _ not have a pretense to go down?” she asked urgently. “Check on his health?”

He looked at her gravely. “Ozzel is in a dangerous mood,” he said softly. “He’s looking for evidence of conspiracy to mutiny. He may really believe that is what we all intend. And in terms of the crew, his actions have made that a real danger.”   
  


Yes. Leia had overheard dangerous words and whispered conversations.

Piett’s actions and those of his crew merited great acclaim. Ozzel had instead clapped their Captain in irons and said not a word of praise to his men. 

“So,” the Doctor continued, “I should not be seen going to the Captain. But you. You are a small lad who could slip unnoticed. Colonel Veers has stationed some of his men to guard the area in a rotation to protect the Captain. However, were you to go, I do not think they would stop you.”   
  


She was both pleased and surprised at his reaction. 

“No, ‘it’s too dangerous, your Ladyship’?” she asked quietly.

“You are already here are you not?” he returned dryly. “Now. Here is a canteen with water. And I suggest that you save some of your meal. Off you go now. It’s your time in the mess.”

Impulsively, Leia kissed his cheek.

“Here now!” he exclaimed. “What if someone saw? Stuff and nonsense!”

She smiled over her shoulder at him and left to get her dinner.

She tried to be as normal as possible at table while sliding a ships’ biscuit into her pocket and palming half a boiled potato. It wasn’t much but she needed to be able to offer something.

Accordingly she made her way quietly down, deck after deck, moving calmly but with purpose. She was the surgeon’s mate after all and it had become common for her to move about the ship on the various errands that Henley set her to.

She had never been in the hold before, and could feel and smell the difference. Giant barrels of stores and water were stowed here. She could faintly hear the pigs that the governor had given Ozzel at the other end of the ship toward the bow.

She made her way toward the stern, the dim light of the lanterns illuminating her steps. She spotted a tall Marine sergeant near her destination. He watched her approach and she met his eyes.

“I’m….” she started.

“If you don’t tell me what you’re up to, I can’t say anything about it, can I?” the big man said kindly. “You’re the surgeon’s mate, yes?”

Well, Leia supposed she shouldn't be too surprised that Colonel Veers would pick his people carefully.

“That’s right.”

He nodded. “Fetch what you came for then.”

  
  
_ If only she could. _

She gave him a small nod and moved past him around the bulkhead, and into a fairly large storage area where extra wood and bits of iron for repairing the ship were stored. Two hanging lanterns offered dim illumination. And at the far end of this room….

“Captain,” she said, moving nimbly to him. 

He looked up, startled at her voice, and she did not care for the dark circles beneath his eyes. It could not be comfortable, being seated on the wooden boards with his ankles trapped in the iron loops fastened to the deck in front of him.

  
  
“My dear, you should absolutely not be here,” he told her as firmly as he was able.

“And if anyone asks, I’m not,” she replied gently, seating herself beside him. “How are they treating you? I don’t trust the Master, what is his name?”

“Jackson,” Piett answered stiffly.

She pulled out her canteen and handed it to him. “Are they feeding you?” she asked, and he quirked an eyebrow at her as he drank.

“Yes, my dear.”

“Where is the plate then? We just had mess not long ago. I know he was supposed to bring you some.”

He hesitated and confirmed her fears.

Wordlessly, she pulled out the biscuit and the potato.

“It isn’t much, but I shall come again with more. Captain, they  _ can’t… _ .”

“They  _ can _ and they are,” he said wearily, “and my Lady, you are putting yourself in grave danger. I cannot allow you to do this.”

“It isn’t up to you, dear Captain. And the Colonel’s marine out there has already let me know that my presence wasn’t noticed. We are not going to let you go through this by yourself. And I promise you this---my Father shall get my side of this story when we reach him.”

He bit into the cold potato and consumed it with relish. Her heart twisted at that as he revealed just how hungry he was.

“My dear, I do appreciate what you’re doing. I can endure three more days, but we cannot give the Admiral any cause to claim mutiny…”

“You are an officer of His Majesty’s navy. This treatment is inhumane, and I will see that fat pig punished for this.”

This got a smile from him.

“You are rather frightening when you want to be, my Lady. Now go. Thank you for the food.” He handed her the canteen and she knew he was right, but now that she was here, she hated to leave him again.

He read her hesitation.

“You can help me best if you are not caught, my dear. Thus, you should not stay long. Much as I appreciate your presence.”

She abhorred thinking of him alone in this dim place with only his thoughts for company. She seized him suddenly in an embrace, and felt his startled movement before he tentatively brought up an arm to pat her back. 

“All right, dear girl. It will be all right.”

And the idea of him comforting her in this scenario…

She smiled into his blue jacket and raised her head to look him in the eye. "I swear to you that it will be. Courage, Captain of mine.”

Then she moved away swiftly before she delayed any further.

She nodded to the sergeant as she exited and she slipped back up the ladders as surreptitiously as she had come.

She reached the orlop and was almost at the ladder when a hand shot out to seize her arm and she was hauled into a storeroom, the door shutting quietly and firmly behind her.

  
  


*****

Veers sat the boy down on a coil of rope in the Bosun’s storehouse, and put a hand over his mouth before he could kick up a fuss.

“We’re not going to hurt you, so for the Captain’s sake, no noise, is that clear?”

The boy nodded, brown eyes huge in the dim light of their one lantern, and Veers removed his hand.

“You were just down there to see him, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sergeant Ellery let you by with no trouble, I trust?”

The Surgeon’s mate assented again.

“How was he?”

The young man’s eyes shot to Venka and Baldwin, hovering behind him.

“They are with me and we are all here for Captain Piett, boy. How was he?”

The slim form before him drew itself up straight as he answered.

“Tired. I don’t think he can sleep very well. And….I don’t think he’s eaten much if at all.”

Veers threw a dark look at Venka who returned it steadily. Jackson was capable of being a right bastard indeed, and a Piett who was fainting from hunger could hardly defend himself adequately before the Fleet Admiral.

“Did you bring him anything?”

“Yes sir, but it wasn’t much.”

Veers considered. They must be so very careful. He knew Lord Vader to be a just man, and the Colonel was reasonably sure that with the testimony of the officers as well as Piett’s own account, he would dismiss Ozzel’s outrageous claims. Nonetheless, all must be aboveboard. They must not give even the appearance of mutiny.

“Listen then. We have three days until we meet the rest of the fleet on Sardinia. So. I propose two checks a day. One will be from….what’s your name boy?”

“Naberrie, sir.”

“One will be from Mr. Naberrie. You will go in the morning and bring him a canteen full of water.”

“We will each take a turn to bring him either mid meal or supper. Venka you first. Then me and Baldwin you will take the last day. Clear? Are you able to handle that, Mr. Naberrie?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“We will do him no good if we are caught.” And bloody hell, Veers hated this situation. He hated Ozzel for  _ putting _ them in this situation. “So if it’s a choice between reaching the Captain and being discovered, you must abort. It’s not ideal, but he can make it three days.”

_ I’m so very sorry, Piett. _

“Are we clear?”

The rest of them agreed. 

“All right then. Let’s keep our Captain as functional as possible in order to clear his name.”

Accordingly, Venka took care of bringing Piett food on the following day and reported that he’d had to wake the man, who must have at last been so exhausted that he’d succumbed to sleep even in so uncomfortable a position. 

Veers waited impatiently for it to be his turn the next day, and pocketed some dried meat and two fresh oranges. The Spanish governor had sent them a basket of fresh fruit which the officers had appreciated immensely. He waited on the upper deck, talking with one of the gun captains until he saw Jackson go by with a nasty smirk on his face after delivering Piett’s dinner.

Veers waited until the man reached the main deck before he descended swiftly to the hold.

Havell saluted him as he approached, and he could hear soft cursing as he entered the large storage room and made his way to the far end where his friend was imprisoned.

And he saw why Piett was relieving his feelings with language. 

The Master had placed the tin plate with Piett’s meal just out of his reach, and in his efforts to retrieve it, it had overturned. 

Veers had half a mind to turn right around and beat the man to death with the tin plate, but he was here for his friend’s sake, not to relieve his own furious emotions.

“Veers! Good heavens man, are you insane? They’ll know….”

“Hush, no they won’t. We have a system. Besides, Havell will alert me to anything suspicious. How long has Jackson been doing this neat little trick, Firmus?”

His friend looked terrible---weary and white, with several days worth of stubble on his cheeks, and Veers hated to think how stiff his muscles must be. But he had come to relieve that as best he could. 

“Since the beginning,” sighed Piett. “I am grateful to you all, I am. But if you are caught….”

“Have faith, my friend,” Veers said, kneeling next to him and pulling out the key he needed to free Piett’s ankles.

“ _ Colonel _ ,” Piett hissed in worry.

“Just temporary, Firmus, I’m not an idiot. But we arrive tomorrow and I’m going to guess that apart from seeing to your needs, Jackson hasn’t let you out of these.”

“....No.”

Veers happily pictured himself dumping Jackson over the side and into the open maw of a shark as he got an arm around the Captain and helped him to his feet. Piett gave a swiftly stifled cry of pain and clutched his arm.

“I have you. I know. Take your time on this---I’m going to help you try and loosen your muscles and get your blood flowing. We arrive tomorrow and I know you will want to walk on your own. So let’s see what we can do.”

He knew his friend’s muscles would be much abused after this and he moved slowly, helping Piett as the Captain found his feet again and after three turns back and forth across the hold, Piett stood away from him and managed on his own.

“Here you are,” Veers said, after peeling the first orange, not having missed the way that Piett’s hands had shaken with weakness, and he handed it over.

Piett took it in wonder. “ _ Max… _ .how?”

“That snivelling Spanish governor. There’s another one. Eat that.”

The Captain obeyed and the fragrant smell of fresh orange permeated the air. 

Piett looked blissful and Veers smiled.

“Nothing quite like it for a thirsty man.”

“I may need to buy an orange grove and retire.”   
  


Veers snorted quietly, and handed him the dried meat . “Not yet you’re not. I intend to sail with you until we’re old. Then if you want to do that, I’ll help you.”

Piett smiled at him. “I can’t thank you enough, Veers. All of you, but I know this was your organization.”   
  


“We’re going to stand right with you, Piett. You deserve a medal not a court martial. And I will say so to Lord Vader.”

The Captain stopped in their pacing and looked up at him. “Max. I won’t let you throw away your career.”

But Veers wasn’t going to hear any protests. “Ozzel went way over the line here, Captain. You need to trust that we will calmly and rationally report what happened and why it happened. You know, I  _ know  _ you do, that his order to remain in harbor in those circumstances was suicidal. I think that Admiral Lord Vader will agree.”

He held out the second orange and Piett took it and began peeling it. “I know he is just.” He sighed and continued to walk. “It’s been slightly difficult to remain optimistic down here….”

Veers could only imagine and made sure to match his stride to his friend, allowing their shoulders to brush as they moved across the deck. 

“You’re one of the bravest men I know, Captain. We’re almost through this.”

“Thank you, Max,” Piett said quietly.

Veers hated to do it, but Piett just eased himself back to the deck so that the Colonel could restrain his ankles once more.

“It helped, Veers, to be able to walk around. I’m very grateful.”

Veers suppressed the things he wanted to say about why Piett shouldn’t have to be grateful for basic humanity and settled for gripping the Captain’s shoulder. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Firmus.”

He gathered all the orange peels and left the room.

Ozzel and his cronies were going to find out just what kinds of hell Colonel Maximilian Veers was prepared to bring on behalf of Devastator’s Captain.

  
  


*****

  
  


“So your Father is Admiral of the Fleet.”   
  


“Yes.”

“But you’re just a Commander out here on a frigate.”   
  


“Just….!” sputtered Wedge and Luke patted him on the back.

“My Father does not believe in merely handing his children things. I will work my way up on my own merits. Executor is a lovely ship, but she is my Father’s and I do not need to make my name on her. Artoona and I understand each other very well.”   
  


Solo was joining him for dinner, along with Luke’s senior officers, Wedge and Hobbie, as well as Davis and Morton.

They would be rejoining his Father in two days’ time to take stock of the fleet and conduct any repairs and resupplying before continuing their pursuit of the French in the Mediterranean. Luke was worried about the amount of French ships, and was keen to share his own experiences with his Father as it would effect how they deployed the fleet next.

“Well, I can respect that,” Solo said, taking a bit of the fragrant dish in front of him. “That is quite tasty. Not afraid of the local cuisine then? Thought I was the only one willing to be daring that way.”

“No you are not, sir,” Luke replied. “When I put in to a foreign port, I have the cook get local fresh supplies. They tend to be cheap and as you noted, quite tasty.”

Hobbie was nodding while drinking some water and trying to pretend that the spices weren’t making his eyes water. Personally, Luke did not think their Irish cook had made the dish nearly as spicey as the locals would have, but Hobbie’s very English taste buds were quite sensitive to it. Luke pretended not to notice, though Wedge shot their friend an amused glance.

They had a basket of fresh citrus fruits as well and Luke’s crew were also enjoying these. For a day or two at least, the Artoona would have the faint and pleasant scent from the fruit.

“I think I might like you, Commander Skywalker,” Solo said, grinning easily at him and Luke smiled back. There was something quite refreshing about American openness (when it wasn’t splinters in your skin irritating) and Solo had proven quite useful. He had pitched in cheerfully alongside Luke’s crew in an effort to make the Falcon as seaworthy as she could be before they set sail to meet his Father in Sardinia. 

“Whether you like the Captain or not, is not really an issue we need to concern ourselves with, Captain Solo,” said Wedge as loftily as possible, and Luke’s shoe found Wedge’s shin under the table. On occasion his first lieutenant pulled out all the breeding of his old family name and used it as a weapon. In this case, however, Luke did not see an enemy in Solo.

The American seemed to enjoy the fact that Wedge was getting quite stuffy. “No, you’re wondering when I’ll haul my American carcass off your ship so you can purify it again. What is the plan for that, Skywalker?”   
  


Hobbie snickered slightly at Wedge’s expression and Luke sighed. 

“If it’s up to me, Solo, I’d let you go once we reach the port. But I have a proposal.”

Everyone at the table sat up a little straighter.

“You don’t have a ship. I’d be willing to bet that my Father would let you have the Falcon, once she’s refitted, but that will take some time. And while we appreciate your efforts on the behalf of our countrymen, I do not think he will find that sufficient payment for the ship.”

The other Captain’s eyes narrowed and Luke held up a hand. “Here me out. I estimate two months for the Falcon to be refitted. In that time, you could earn a living and be useful….”

Wedge coughed into his wine glass.

“...or you could sit around in a Sardinian port being bored which wouldn’t help you to get the Falcon.”

Solo eyed him suspiciously. “What are you saying then, Captain?”

“I’m saying I would enjoy having you aboard the Artoona, sir. We could use you in our efforts against the French.”

Hobby’s knife thumped to the table. Luke could feel Wedge’s horror without looking at him. 

Solo leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You do realize that we aren’t exactly ah…..friendly with you all at the moment correct? That the French helped us out recently?”

Wedge snorted.

“Shows your taste in allies….”

“All right, Lieutenant. I do realize that, sir. But I am speaking to you as an individual. One who, may I remind you, had his ship taken by the French and was thrown into prison?”

Solo raised both eyebrows. “You think that I would like to get a bit of my own back on a British ship?”

Luke held his gaze steadily because there was just something about this rough American captain.

“Yes.”

There was a beat.

“You have a deal.”

Luke smiled and took the man’s offered hand and pretended not to hear Wedge’s groan of despair or Hobbie’s softly muttered, ‘ _ dear Lord in heaven, an American.’ _ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our American Captain Solo. He's not entirely sure about working with these Brits, but for the Falcon, he'd be willing to do a lot. :)
> 
> It was SO HARD to do Harrison Ford. He's so very recognizable!! But I did my best and I'm loving drawing all our people in this period. :)


	12. Ozzel's Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last we meet up with Anakin's ship, the Executor and Ozzel is keen to bustle everyone over there to make his report of the Captain's infractions. Anakin takes a different view.  
> Unsurprisingly to no one, Ozzel didn't see that coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The halfway point has been reached and I'm delighted to get us here. Thank you all for reading along. It's been a joy!

A warm hand was on his back and someone was saying his name.

Piett opened eyes that felt too dry very reluctantly and squinted up at the face before him.

“Firmus. We are docked in Cagliari. Executor has signalled us to come over. Looks like she took some heavy damage so there are stories to tell all around it seems.”

Piett sat up slowly. Dear heavens, everything ached. He must look a sight.

“Any chance Ozzel will give me time to clean up?”

Veers looked at him grimly as he released him from the fetters and gave him a hand to rise.

Piett staggered against him, legs unwilling to cooperate, and his friend growled fearful curses upon Ozzel.

“Just….just help me take a few strides around the deck,” Piett managed, noting how dry his mouth was.

Veers complied, and they walked slowly until Piett felt as though he had command of his own limbs once more. 

“To answer your question, no, Ozzel is demanding we leave now. I’m so sorry, Piett….”

Well. He had expected the man to be petty in every last detail. 

Veers paused, looking exceedingly embarrassed and angry.

“What is it?” Piett sighed.

“He’s ah….he’s...oh _damn_ it, Firmus, he wants you chained like a criminal.”

Piett felt that icy knot in his stomach again. And it shouldn’t matter, but it did. To be thus taken through his own ship and further to the Fleet Admiral’s…...it was almost not to be borne. 

Veers was reading his face and his grey eyes were flaming.

“I would cheerfully throttle him with the shackles, Firmus. I….to continue apologizing feels so inadequate….”   
  


But Piett steeled himself and tightened his jaw.

“Not your fault, Max. Just….” he hoped he didn’t sound too much like a coward. “Stay by me will you? I think I could just about bear it….if….if I’m not completely alone.”   
  


“Of course I will!” Veers told him fiercely. “There was never any question that I would be anywhere but next to you. Ozzel will not keep me from going to the Executor. Venka is coming too. And the Bosun.”

Piett felt a wash of gratitude for these men. “All right then,” he said, holding out his hands, “get it over with.”

Ellery approached them and the marines chained his wrists before taking up a position on either side of him.

“I know I don’t have any right to say it,” the Colonel murmured softly as they made their way out of the hold, “but I’m bloody proud of you, Captain.”

Piett nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and he went up the first ladder to the orlop deck. He paused at the top, not quite sure what he was facing as the crew lined the deck on both sides, but Veers urged him forward and the men snapped a salute together as one for their Captain as he passed. Dirty and fettered as he was, they were offering him their support in the only way they could.

_ And he would not break, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. _

This happened again the next deck up and again all the way to the upper gun deck, and Piett had tears in his eyes but he did not dare let them drop for he would be facing Ozzel soon, and he needed control.

They reached the main deck where Ozzel and the other officers were waiting, and Piett blinked in the Mediterranean sun and the fresh air.

Venka was a thunderous looking contrast to their sunny surroundings, but he said nothing, taking Ellery’s place at Piett’s side as Ozzel smiled at him.

“And _now_ , Captain, we will see what Admiral Lord Vader has to say about your disgraceful actions.”

“Yes, sir,” Piett managed, seeing a slight movement out of the corner of his eye and finding the gaze of her Ladyship--determined and intense. He was heartened. She would shortly be with her Father----they had successfully covered her presence at least and he could breathe easier on that front. 

He made his awkward way down into the waiting boat, but Veers was there to give him a hand and seated himself beside Piett.

“You did not need to take this detail yourself, Colonel,” Ozzel said with a curl of his lip as they settled and Venka came down.

Veers held his gaze, ice cold.

“I would trust no one else with it, Admiral.”

Venka sat opposite his Captain and handed him what he had been carrying under his arm.

Piett’s hat.

He took it with trembling hands (damn his body’s weakness!) and looked up at the understanding eyes of his first officer. A small kindness to give him the dignity of full uniform, however filthy it may be. His once white stockings were dirty from the hold, the marks of the irons very clear around his ankles and he flushed anew.

They pulled for the Executor and it was both the longest and shortest trip of Piett’s life. He could see the extensive damage that Veers had referred to. It was bad indeed and Piett wondered how many men Lord Vader had lost in his action. 

Ozzel was piped aboard and then Venka was going up and Piett made the climb up the ladder, trying to ignore how funny his head felt. He paused halfway up, worried he might actually lose consciousness and fall, but a warm hand on his back held him steady.

"Right here, sir," the Bosun's reassuring voice said from right behind him. "Not going to let you fall, Captain."

_ Worlds of meaning there.  _

They made it to the top and then Veers was with him again. He could see Ozzel’s rotund form near the taller one of Lord Vader as he gesticulated and made his report.

“Max,” Piett said, as his head spun, “I need your arm….feeling faint.” 

Veers was an iron support, subtly helping him stay upright and Piett was deeply frustrated at his body-- on the other hand, this was what Ozzel had intended---to make him appear weak.

But then, the first real spear of hope shot through Piett when Lord Vader’s displeased voice boomed out over them.

“ _ What _ is the meaning of this, Admiral Ozzel?”   
  


He strode over glaring furiously down at Piett, and then over to Ozzel who was looking like a stranded puffer fish.

“What….what do you mean, my Lord?”

“Did Captain Piett start an uprising?”

“Ah no…”

“Resist arrest?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Did he try to escape?”   
  


“...no?”

“No,  _ my  Lord_,” Vader snapped. 

“Ah, no, my Lord,” Ozzel said, sweating now.

“Then what in _God’s_ name do you mean, putting an officer of His Majesty’s navy in  _ shackles _ ? Release him immediately!”

“Yes, my Lord,” Veers said calmly, hands swift to obey and Piett was free, though still not feeling himself. Vader gave him a keen gaze and motioned toward his cabin.

“I think we all need to convene in my quarters. Lieutenant Venka, you are the first Lieutenant I believe?”   
  


“Yes, my Lord.”   
  


“You will join us. Colonel, Captain, Admiral, come.”

And he turned sharply all of them following in his wake.

Piett shared a glance with Veers who didn’t quite smile but it was implied.

They entered the cabin and Piett prepared to face the Admirals.

  
  


*****

Damn Ozzel to the pit. Anakin hated the man and here he was embarrassing the navy and His Majesty with his petty and malicious behavior to a Captain of a ship of the line. Further the vice Admiral’s flagship. 

Even if Piett had done something which merited severe discipline (and Anakin very much doubted that he had) he should be treated with the respect owed his rank. Ozzel had decided to put on a show. 

Parading his own Captain in chains. Bloody hell, the man was obtuse.

And Piett looked faint. Surely the Admiral hadn’t gone so far as to do the bread and water treatment…..

He waited for the marine who guarded his quarters to shut the door. 

“Sit down gentlemen,” he said, indicating various chairs. 

All of them, with the exception of the Captain, did so. Piett clearly expected to find himself on a sort of trial here, but he was also clearly going to fall if he didn’t sit.

“That includes you, Captain,” Anakin said mildly and didn’t miss the glower Ozzel shot at the carpet, not daring to shoot it at his Admiral.

“Drinks?” Anakin asked as his servant approached and Veers very pointedly looked at Piett.

“Water, Captain?” he asked.

Piett looked to Anakin who merely raised his eyebrows inquiringly so the man nodded.

“Thank you.”   
  


Once all of them had something in hand, Anakin dismissed his servant and turned to Ozzel.

“So then. According to your account Captain Piett disobeyed a direct order to stay in a Spanish harbor in order to pursue the glory of a three to one battle with the French. Would that sum it up accurately?”   
  


“Yes, my Lord,” Ozzel was all ingratiating humility now. “It may be possible he _thought_ it was urgent, but….”   
  


“Did you receive this order, Captain?” Anakin interrupted, turning to Piett, taking in his dirty uniform and unshaven appearance. And something else. Those marks around his ankles….

“Yes, my Lord,” Piett said hoarsely and took another drink of water.

“And you disobeyed it knowingly.”

The man was pale, but resolute, and he did not flinch. “Yes, my Lord.”

“ _ Why _ ?”

“You have heard him admit it, my Lord, I do not see that the reason matters….”

“Do you not?” said Anakin coolly, watching Veers and Venka, both of whom were clearly anxious to speak, but waiting until asked. “Because I and any just court, were this to go that far, would find it very relevant indeed.”

He turned his attention back to Piett.

“Give your account of the matter, Captain,” he ordered calmly.

Piett shot a quick glance to Veers who gave him an ever so imperceptible nod. So he had the support of the Marines then. Interesting. Possibly the friendship of this cold Colonel given the assistance Anakin had seen Veers give to the Captain on the deck.

“My Lord. We put in to a harbor with two of our merchant ships. Our orders, as you know, were to bring them safely to the straits of Gibraltar. The Spanish governor met us to invite the Admiral for refreshment, and informed us that there had been no French fleet action in some time in the area.”

“You did not trust him.”

“No my Lord.”

“Understandable. Go on.”

“Roughly four hours into our stay, I sighted two French frigates approaching. We signalled the Governor’s house but received no reply. As time was pressing for us to be able to escape the harbor, I gave the order to weigh anchor.”

Ozzel snorted and Anakin gave him a quelling look.

“Why did you also order the merchant ships out of harbor, Captain?”

Piett cleared his throat again. “My Lord. Our odds were three to one at this point, having spotted a French ship of the line approaching as well. I believe this might even have been planned.”   
  


“Preposterous!” Ozzel sputtered. “We entered in good faith and the Governor gave me his assurances….”   
  


“Quite a coincidence,” put in Veers mildly, speaking at last, and Ozzel glared at him.

“If you were so concerned, why didn’t you say something, Colonel?”

“Because the Captain had already expressed that concern,  _ Admiral _ , I had hoped you would listen to him.”

Silence.

The Colonel had the look of a man who was committing murder with his eyes every time he glanced at Ozzel. The senior officers of the Devastator were definitely proving to be in Piett’s corner, and Anakin was becoming convinced that at last Ozzel had over reached.

Still, he must be thorough. 

“So Captain,” Anakin said, looking to Piett again. “You ordered the merchant ships out as well.”

“Yes, my Lord. I assumed they were the intended target and I thought if it looked as though they were fleeing, it might cause the two French ships to split---one pursuing them and one engaging us.”

“And did they?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Anakin nodded, anticipating what Piett’s tactics had been. Bold indeed.

“So you went between them. A risky move, Captain.”

Piett held his eyes. “Yes, my Lord. But the wind was in my favor. And so was my crew.”   
  


Quiet pride there. Anakin was finding himself more and more impressed with this diminutive Captain.

“What happened then, Lieutenant Venka?” Anakin said, swinging on the man, who was startled, but then pleased to be addressed.

“The Captain ordered broadsides to both ships, sir. And sir, it was a thing of beauty. He crippled them both and we didn’t hesitate, but went on to confront the second rate.”

Piett was giving a slightly disapproving look at Venka’s clear excitement and admiration for his Captain.

Ozzel was looking furious.

“And what was her fate?”

“Damaged her badly, my Lord, and killed her Captain thanks to Colonel Veers and his marines.”

Veers inclined his head.

“Which ship?” Anakin asked interestedly. 

“The Liberte’, my Lord,” Piett replied quietly. 

“Well done indeed.”

“Then what, Colonel Veers?”   
  


“We returned to harbor, sir, as the Captain wished to secure the merchant ships, that being our primary objective, my Lord.”

“Where you met them, I believe, Admiral?” Anakin asked Ozzel.

“Yes indeed!”

“And you then placed the Captain under arrest?”

“Quite so.”

Ozzel sniffed disapprovingly. Venka glared at a spot over the vice admiral’s shoulder.    
  


What an appalling ass. Piett’s actions deserved a commendation. Three to one odds. And not a scratch on the ships he had been tasked with protecting. Anakin could admit to himself he was going to enjoy taking down Ozzel.

“And in placing him under arrest, it appears that you also put him in irons judging by the marks I can see.”

Piett flushed, but this was not his shame to feel.

Veers looked as though he would cheerfully throttle the Admiral, and Venka was now staring at the man coldly.

“I….well of course….we should treat officers no differently….”

Veers actually snarled under his breath and Ozzel shifted nervously. 

“Than  _ what _ ?” Anakin interrupted. “Than pirates? Drunkards? Mutineers? We _absolutely_ treat officers differently!” His voice rose and Ozzel flinched.

“It was a four day sail for you, I assume,” he said, turning back to Venka.

“Yes, my Lord.”   
  


“You kept the Captain in the  _ hold _ all that time?”

Piett was trying not to look at either admiral, but this was obviously what had happened and Anakin felt a surge of hot rage on his behalf. As well as a feeling of responsibility.  _ This had happened in his own bloody fleet! _ _  
  
_

Ozzel was pale now, for the first time realizing just how badly he had misjudged the situation.

“Well….ah, as he is the Captain, I couldn’t have mutiny…”

“You bloody  _ fool _ _!_ You could have incited that very thing! The crew of the Devastator accomplished something praiseworthy. Their Captain deserves a commendation, and he shall _get_ one by God, if I have anything to do with it! And you turned around and clapped him in irons! Disgraceful sir! It’s a miracle the crew stayed in line!”

“The Captain ordered it so,” Venka put in, satisfaction unmistakable in his tone, and Anakin spared a glance back to Piett who was looking as though he would like to be anywhere else.

Veers and Venka, however, were very obviously delighted to be right where they were and he supposed they had a right to this.   
  


“Did you, Piett?” Anakin asked, and weary hazel eyes met his.

“Yes, my Lord.”   
  


“Well. I must also commend you on your restraint. Because, Admiral,” Anakin continued, swinging back on the sweating Ozzel, “I have to admit I would bloody well like to punch you in your pretentious face! Tell me that you did not put him on bread and water as well, because he looks as though a light wind might blow him over.”

Ozzel flinched. “No, of course, I…..”

“The Master was tasked with bringing the Captain his dinner,” said Veers coldly and viciously. “He most carelessly tended to leave it where the Captain could not reach it.”   
  


Anakin thought unprintable things. No wonder the Captain looked so awful.

Ozzel was sputtering again. “I did not order that… of course…..and how do  _ you  _ know Veers? What were you doing there?”

“Ensuring that you did not  _ further _ abuse a Captain of his Majesty’s navy,  _ Admiral _ ,” Veers replied in tones that were downright dangerous, and no one in the room missed his hand tightening on his sword hilt. Ozzel swallowed. 

Anakin was done. He rose and enjoyed the fact that Ozzel actually moved back a few inches in his chair.

“I have heard enough. Captain Piett saved his ship and _you_ , Admiral, from debilitating damage, possibly capture, in spite of your utterly idiotic actions. You will return to the Devastator momentarily. You will wait in the first officer’s quarters. Colonel, Lieutenant, I would speak with you later. Piett, I have some things I wish to put to you and then, man, you will get a square meal and you will be our guest on this ship until I have made some decisions.”

All of them were looking at each other curiously, but they obeyed his commands, Ozzel slinking out like a whipped cur. Veers placed a quick hand on Piett’s shoulder as he left and the Captain gave him a grateful look. 

_ Most certainly friends then. _

The door shut behind them and Anakin sat once more, facing the Captain, who held his hat with dignity despite his disheveled appearance.

“I am most abjectly sorry you were treated in so abominable a fashion in my fleet, Captain,” Anakin said first. “It will be made right.”

“Thank you, sir. My Lord…..” Piett paused, looking nervous for the first time, “There is something you must know and I fear it will be displeasing to you. However, it is imperative you know.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow.

“You look as though I am going to have you shot, Piett. Surely it cannot be that bad?”

The Captain ran a hand over his unshaven jaw.

“Mmm. You will have to decide that, my Lord.”

“Go on then.”

Piett straightened his posture and tugged slightly at his jacket.

“My Lord, your daughter is aboard my ship. She disguised herself as a boy and embarked with us at Portsmouth.”   
  


Anakin took in the words but the meaning was not sinking in.

“My daughter is in England, Captain, she would never….”

But even as he said it, he paused, because did he really know what Leia would  _ never  _ do? He had spent very little time with his daughter. And she certainly  _ looked  _ like her mother. She could have that same irrepressible spirit. He vaguely recalled some nurses attempting to draw his attention to his daughter’s impetuous and fiery nature.

_ “Miss Leia climbed that tree again today, my Lord….” _

_ “My Lord, she set upon the Honorable Charles Lawley for tormenting that kitten, and now his father…” _

And something she had said the last time he had seen her in person, it must have been 10 months ago now.

_ “I look too much like Mother, I think. At least I assume that is why you have a difficult time spending too much time with me.” _

How had he answered that? Had he even been paying full attention to her? 

He dragged his attention back to the man before him who was still holding himself as though facing a firing squad.

“She…..how long have you known this, Captain? Did you….help her in this endeavor?”

“My  _ Lord _ . I would never have allowed it had I known! I recognized her about a month ago. She has been the surgeon’s mate, my Lord and she was assisting me with a mild injury when I realized who she was. We agreed that it was best to continue with the deception until we met up with you. We could then transfer her to Executor and she could claim that she travelled here to meet you, my Lord.”

Yes, that was a wise decision. One that protected his daughter and her reputation. 

“Thank you, Captain. It seems we are doubly indebted to you. Is anyone else aware of her identity?”   
  


Piett made a face. “Dr. Henley figured it out, my Lord. He has agreed to help me in keeping this quiet.”

Anakin nodded.

“I shall send for them both. It is timely as I have much to do in terms of redistributing crew in the fleet after our last engagement.”

Anakin needed to keep this brief. Piett had already been pushed beyond his endurance, but he was clearly made of the sort of resilient stuff that Anakin approved of. 

“I will get to the point, Captain, and we can discuss more after you have eaten and rested. We suffered heavy losses of a deeply regrettable nature in our last engagement. The ship is in need of serious repair, but more importantly, she is in need of crucial crew.”

He paused, the reality of the losses hitting him again.

“Captain Michaels was killed in the conflict as were numerous other officers, among them General Travis and our Doctor.”

Piett looked deeply sympathetic, eyes large in his pale face.

“I am so truly sorry, sir.”

“Thank you. Piett, I am in need of a new Captain. I am requesting and requiring it to be you.”

A beat.

“My Lord….I….it is an honor. But….surely your first officer…”

“Commander Horton is a good man. But he is not what I require to Captain my flagship. I intend to give him command of the Devastator. I am giving you new sailing orders, Piett. You will of course have the freedom to pick your officers. I intend to speak with Colonel Veers as well, to see if he will command our marines.”

It was a lot for the man to take in. 

Anakin rose and held his hand out, and Piett did so more slowly, making sure of his balance.

“Congratulations, Captain. My servant will show you to your quarters and bring you a meal. We can retrieve a fresh uniform for you. But you are to rest and I shall summon you in four hours.”

Piett shook his hand, and a slow smile was growing on his face.

“Thank you, my Lord. For...for everything.”

Anakin waited for a moment after he left, and then passed the word for Venka and Veers.

The two men entered and he could see their curiosity.

“Gentlemen,” he said, shutting the door. “This has been an unusual day.”

“Indeed, my Lord,” Veers said immediately. “Where is Captain Piett, sir?”   
  


His first concern. Well, Anakin could use a united marine and navy force.

“The Captain is resting in his quarters, Colonel. I have given him command of the Executor, having lost my Captain in this last action.”

Dead silence as Veers and Venka stared at him.

“This brings me to why I have asked you here. You have displayed great loyalty to your Captain and very wise support. Colonel, I also lost General Travis. I wonder how you would feel about taking command of my marines, sir.”

Veers was stunned, but he hid it well, bowing slightly. “It would be my honor, Admiral.”   
  


“I will take input from you and other marine officers in the fleet about who should command Devastator’s marines.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Lieutenant Venka. It is of course, a Captain’s prerogative to staff his officers. I do not wish to speak for Piett, but I rather think you will be part of this crew. Before we establish this, however, I have a task for you.”   
  


“Of course, my Lord.”

Anakin moved to his desk and sat to swiftly write a brief note. 

“I would like you to return to Devastator to retrieve Doctor Henley and his mate. Please deliver this note to the Doctor. Further, if you could see about getting Captain Piett’s belongings transferred here and, more immediately, bring him a fresh uniform, I would be obliged.”

“It would be my genuine pleasure, my Lord,” the man said, his face showing his happiness for his Captain.

“Then you are dismissed. I will see you both at my table this evening.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” and both men departed.

Anakin retrieved his hat. He must oversee the workings of the ship in lieu of a Captain at the moment. 

And he must prepare to face his daughter.


	13. Change of Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia comes aboard the Executor and Anakin discusses the future with his new Captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really could be subtitled:  
> Ozzel's comeuppance part II: Leia gets a turn.
> 
> I'm glad to say that at last our dear Piett does not have to worry about dissension with commanding officers and can turn his attention instead to the hostilities of the French fleet. I look forward to sharing the second half of this work with you all.
> 
> Also, because I can't stop myself, I made a little drawing of our dear Captain that I put in chapter 10 if you'd like to pop over and see it.

Leia, like the rest of the crew, was desperately curious and concerned when the boat returned from the Executor bearing only Lieutenant Venka.

Surely things were all right if Colonel Veers was still on board the other ship. Her Father may be more distant with his children, but his reputation was as a just man to those under his command. 

She knew this, but her heart still beat wildly and she longed to race to the first officer and beg him for news.

He gave orders to Scrapland who scrambled off to the Captain’s cabin and then he was looking at her.

“Mr. Naberrie, will I find the Doctor in his cabin?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied as evenly as she could.

He strode off and Leia, having nothing else to do in the moment, looked at her Father’s damaged ship, wondering what he was doing at the moment. 

_ Was her Captain safe? Had Ozzel somehow talked her Father round to believe….? _

No. Leia refused to believe that Ozzel could do such a thing.

  
  
“Mr. Naberrie!” 

She turned at the Doctor’s voice.

“Report to my cabin if you please.”

Henley sounded almost….nervous?

Surely not.

She obeyed swiftly and as soon as the door shut behind her, Henley whirled, holding out a note.

“He knows you’re here. So the Captain has had a chance to speak with him privately. I will take that as a good sign.”

She took the note and scanned it swiftly.

_ Aware of the situation with my daughter…. _

_...desire the presence of you both…. _

_...return with Lt. Venka immediately…. _

She felt numb quite suddenly. She would be seeing her Father--the Father whom she hardly knew outside of his naval persona.

“All right your Ladyship, now is not the time to dither.”

Henley’s acerbic voice was just the thing Leia needed to pull herself together. 

She had come this far. Moreover, she was keen to know what was happening with her Captain. She and the Doctor moved out of the cabin and back to the main deck where Lieutenant Venka was waiting with….Piett’s uniform over his arm.

Henley looked at him quizzically, and Leia was greatly encouraged when the first officer smiled briefly at him.

“I was requested to bring the Captain a fresh uniform, Doctor.”

It was all he said as they made their way to the side and down into the boat, but Leia was hopeful. Her Father was allowing Piett to tidy up and change then---surely he was at least interested in hearing the Captain’s side of events.

As they approached the Executor, Leia could see the terrible damage inflicted on the mighty ship. 

_ What had happened? _ _  
  
_

They were met at the top by the second lieutenant.

“Doctor, you are to follow me with your mate. Lieutenant Venka are you able to find your way to the Captain’s quarters?”

All three of them looked at the man at this statement, but he merely watched Venka inquiringly.

“I was…..told to bring Captain Piett a uniform,” Venka said, slowly.

“Yes, sir. The Admiral has given him the Captain’s quarters, Lieutenant.”

Venka recovered well. “Thank you. I can find my way.”

Leia’s head was spinning around what that could imply as she and Henley followed the officer to the Admiral’s quarters. 

The marine at the door nodded to the lieutenant. “He’s with the vice Admiral at the moment.”

“I was told to bring them immediately Sergeant.”

The marine raised his eyebrows, then shrugged slightly and opened the door, allowing the raised voice of Leia’s Father to ring out clearly.

“....think I want to see you on a ship ever again, you are sorely mistaken!!”

She entered to see her Father towering over a red faced Ozzel, who turned as she entered with Henley.

“What do you think you are doing here? Get out,” Ozzel commanded and something in Leia snapped.

She kept moving, powered by the righteous and burning fury she had kept pent up for so long and swung her arm to slap Ozzel’s fleshy cheek with all the power she could muster.

The sound cracked through the cabin and all three men stared at her for a beat.

“You  _ coward _ !” she snarled. “You utterly incompetent  _ bastard _ ! If it was left to me I would see you publicly disgraced.”

Her Father recovered first. 

“Doctor Henley, would you excuse us? I will send for you momentarily.”

“Certainly, my Lord,” the Doctor replied and Leia, glancing at him, saw that he looked as though he had received the greatest gift.

The door shut.

Ozzel managed to recover speech.

“How  _ dare  _ you? You raised a hand to a superior officer,  _ boy _ _!_ You will be shot for this! I…..”

Leia laughed in his face.

“How dare I? I will tell you, you pompous oaf…..”

“ _ Leia _ ,” came her Father’s voice in quelling tones, and she took a moment to actually look at him.

He was staring at her as though he had never seen her before, and in some ways, she reflected, he really hadn’t. 

He was the man she remembered. Tan and stern, with the same bright blue eyes that her brother had as he gazed at her.

Ozzle had finally caught up.

“You….a woman...but...you were on my ship…”

“Admiral Ozzel, I believe you are acquainted with my daughter, Lady Skywalker.”

He opened and closed his mouth several times, and then a cruel and calculating look crossed his face.

“You were on my ship dressed as a man?”

“Obviously,” Leia responded. “And I had a very close look, therefore _Admiral_ , at just how you ran things. Not to mention the appalling way you treated the Captain.”

Ozzel turned back to her Father. “I do not think I shall be returning to the Admiralty after all, Lord Vader. It would be... _unfortunate_ indeed, if this information was to be made public. The Fleet Admiral’s daughter---dressed as a man, serving on a ship in your fleet. Think of the scandal.”

Leia raised her eyebrow.  _ Was he really….? _   
  


Her Father gave voice to her thought.

“Admiral Ozzel,” he said, low and cold, and Leia herself shivered at the danger in that tone, “are you actually  _ threatening  _ me, sir?”   
  


“Oh I’m just pointing out, my Lord, that a woman’s reputation could be ruined. And by reflection of course, yours…..”

Leia slapped him again.

Her Father blinked and watched bemused as she launched her full attack on the useless carcass before her.

“My reputation, sir? Do you think I hold that so dearly, that I would allow you to blackmail my Father with it so that you can continue your abuses in the fleet? And who do you imagine would be believed, Admiral,  _ yourself _ ? Or a lady of the peerage? Daughter of the Fleet Admiral as you so neatly pointed out. What sort of nonsense are you spouting about a woman on your ship, sir? I dare you to find witnesses,  _ Admiral _ .”

He gaped, turning a pasty unhealthy color.

“And even if you _were_ to be believed, I will merely be seen as an eccentric member of the nobility,” Leia continued relentlessly, “while you will be revealed for the inept and bloated waste of humanity that you are! I will happily speak to any paper that will interview me of your actions, sir. I will expose your folly and nasty little soul to the world. I will see to it that you are _utterly_ disgraced.”

She moved to look up at him, inches from his trembling jowls.

“Try. Me.”

“Ah….no I think there is no need….”

He looked physically ill, and Leia could not find it in her to feel badly for him at all. Not after what he had put Piett through.

“Admiral.” Her Father was calm and icily impersonal. “You will return to the Admiralty on the Devastator once I have recrewed the Executor, and set the affairs of the fleet in order following all our actions. You will of course find that a posting there is more suited to your taste. I hope we are abundantly clear, Admiral.”

“We...we are, my Lord.”

“Then have the goodness to get off of my ship, sir.”

Ozzel moved to the door and paused to look at her.

“My Lady…”

“Do not speak to me.”

He left and at last she was alone with her Father.

  
  


*****

Anakin stared down at his tiny and formidable daughter. She was a lovely golden brown from the sun, her brunette locks showing the auburn highlights from her time aboard the ship.

She gazed back, her eyes (Padme’s eyes) fearless but curious.

It was not the first time he felt regret over leaving the raising of his children largely to tutors and servants. But it was weighing heavily upon him as he looked at this young woman--a child no more.

And he was so very proud. Her mother was shining in her---that fierce fighting spirit for justice was all his late wife.

But that incandescent rage. The willingness to raze cities and salt the fields in defense of her people.  _ That  _ was all Anakin.

Seeing her destroy Ozzel had been breathtaking, and marvellous, and he had so very many questions now. Because apparently Piett was her people. This did not trouble him, but he wondered at such fierce loyalty, and given that he was appointing the man as the Captain of his flagship, he wished to know why his daughter held him in such high regard.

First things first however, because he had much to atone for in neglecting his daughter to the point that she had resorted to this dangerous and reckless action.

_ So like him. _

“Leia,” he said and stopped, so very unsure, and she was watching him so intently, half waiting for his censure, half uncertain now that she stood before him without Ozzel.

Anakin opened his arms instead and she was in them in a moment.

_ The right decision then. _

“You are unharmed I trust?” he asked after a few minutes of selfishly enjoying holding his daughter once more.

“I am perfectly fine, Father.”

“I shall send for something to eat. And I have some women’s things being brought from shore. We can get you something more suited to your station once we arrive in Naples.”

  
  
She pulled back slightly so she could see his face.

“Thank you. Father….” she hesitated and then took the plunge. “Where is Captain Piett? Because I assure you, he has done nothing wrong, and I am more than happy to tell any court martial so. If you need me to…”

“Leia,” he stopped her, feeling somewhat amused. “The Captain is perfectly safe I promise you. He is resting by this point, I trust, having also eaten. My servant is attending him, and I shall summon him when he has had a chance to collect himself in body and mind. But I must confess to being deeply curious how he has obviously won your deathless loyalty and clear affection.”

She smiled at him at this and moved to pour herself a glass of water, before sitting down.

“I wrote to you I believe, regarding how he was so very gracious at Lady Carlton’s ball. I was forward enough to request that he receive my letters. It…...it has been very lonely, Father. And there was something about him...he is very kind.”

Anakin felt another pang of failure.

She read his face correctly. “I am not trying to cause you pain, Father. But I was not made to sit on the sidelines. I want to do something useful like you and Luke. And there are precious few people in our circles who would understand or sympathize with that. The Captain did. He is refreshingly unpretentious and so very good at what he does. Father….”

She paused and looked at him with a positively devilish smile. 

“That battle with the French ships. I presume you have been told?”   
  


“Yes, sweetheart, and I can hardly bear to think of you in the midst of that.”

But her eyes were glowing with battle joy, and good  _ Lord  _ was she his daughter.

“It….was frightening to be sure. But also….Father I wish you could have seen it! He timed it perfectly and those frigates were utterly destroyed. I cannot tell you the satisfaction…”

Anakin wished he could have seen it as well, but he had spoken to Veers and Venka at length already to gather the details, and so had some reasonable idea of how it must have been.

“And when he discovered who I was, he looked after me just as well as you would have.”

“Better I think,” Anakin said dryly, “given that I have not done a particularly credible job to this point.”

“Father.” She set her glass down and looked at him gently. “I do understand you know. I know how you have grieved Mother. That you threw yourself into your career. I cannot say that it was not hard on Luke and I to have effectively lost both our parents. But given that our birth was also her death…”

He bowed his head over his hands, the memory still painful nearly two decades later.

“Thank you, Leia. That is more than I deserve. I do….I do love you both you know. That was brought home to me in terrifying clarity when Piett informed me you were aboard the Devastator.”

“I never doubted that, Father,” she said. “So...what now?”

A very interesting question indeed.

“Executor needs serious repair. We will be some months in Italy therefore. I shall direct our efforts in the Mediterranean from there and communicate with the British Embassy in Rome. Your brother is to rendezvous with us in the next two days. So, for the moment, I am afraid you shall need to stay with us on the Lady.”

“The Lady?” his daughter asked quizzically.

“That is how she is known to her crew.”

“The Lady,” Leia rolled this off her tongue. “That suits her very well.”

A knock sounded.

“All right, my angel,” Anakin said swiftly. “Go into my sleeping quarters. No one else should know you are here.”

She obeyed and he admitted the servants with the food and a chest containing some women’s things.

“My daughter will be arriving shortly,” he told them, “I would like a cabin prepared for her. The one by the Captain’s quarters will suit.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

They departed and she came out once more, a smile on her lips, and it brought him joy and pain alike to see his wife in his Leia.

“Now then, sweetheart. Pick out something to wear from the chest and then have some dinner.”

She dressed herself in a simple blue frock that they would need to get fitted, but would do for now. She swiftly pinned her hair into the graceful curls that women seemed so skilled at and there she was, Lady Skywalker once more.

They ate, and he mostly listened to her tell him of her adventures. He was so in awe of her. A surgeon’s mate. She had worked with gore and suffering, and she clearly relished the abilities she had gained. 

Once things had been cleared, he sent the servant to fetch the Captain and Doctor Henley. When they arrived, he was pleased to see that Piett looked precisely as the Captain of a first rate ought to look, though he was still far too drawn and weary. 

Henley entered behind him with a self assured air, and wasn’t intimidated in the least to be standing before the Fleet Admiral and the Fleet Admiral’s daughter, who mere hours before had been his surgeon’s mate.

Leia flew to Piett to embrace him soundly, and the Captain lifted slightly alarmed eyes to Anakin, clearly not certain he should be receiving this.

Anakin made a little ‘go on’ motion with his hand. Leia had claimed him, that was all there was to it. Piett may not have any idea just what that entailed, but Anakin knew enough of his daughter to be certain of her nature in this regard.

The Captain patted her back slightly awkwardly, but he looked deeply pleased, having received Anakin’s blessing on it.

“I’m so very glad to see you looking more yourself,” Leia declared, pulling back to smile without reserve at Piett.

“Well. If by that you mean he’s had a shave and a clean uniform,” the Doctor put in brusquely. “I can assure you that I wouldn’t declare him fit for duty yet.”

Piett turned betrayed eyes on Henley, but as that was one of the items they were here to discuss, Anakin pursued it.

“I did mean to ask you that precise question, Doctor. And given that Piett is now the Captain of the Executor, I wondered when you might consider him fit to assume full command.”

“He’s Captain….” Leia trailed off, her eyes shining at Anakin, and she slipped her hand under Piett’s arm. “Captain, allow me to congratulate you.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” he responded, and then turned to Anakin.

“My Lord,” Piett protested, “I assure you a good night’s sleep and I will be able to…”

  
  
“Pardon me, Captain,” Henley interrupted with no compunction whatsoever. Anakin rather liked it. “But as  _ you  _ are not the medical expert, I rather think _I_ should make that call. I’m quite certain that Executor’s Surgeon will confirm my opinion.”

“Executor’s Surgeon was killed in our last action,” Anakin said quietly, “along with her Captain and a terrible number of our marines. I lived solely because General Travis happened to be standing in front of me when the broadside hit.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Please come in and sit,” Anakin said, gesturing about the day cabin. “You have touched on a number of subjects which I wish to cover with you.”

Piett courteously seated Leia, who had not relinquished his arm up to that point, and then sat near her and across from Henley.

“First, Doctor, I would like an answer to my original question. When do you believe the Captain will be fit to assume command?”

He raised a hand to silence the man in question. Piett was behaving precisely how he expected a man of his nature to, but four days in irons was not something easily shrugged off, and that was not mentioning the other ways the Captain had struggled, both mentally and physically.

Henley sighed. “If I had my way, he would be required to take a week’s shore leave. However, I know that’s not possible. So, two days and I would make it four, except that I am aware that our Captain here would send the rest of us mad with his building impatience.”

Even that had Piett frowning. Anakin offered a slight compromise and reassurance. 

“Piett, it is not shirking your duty to recuperate and I am keenly aware, after serving with Ozzel, that your troubles hardly began when he arrested you.”

The Captain suddenly found the hat in his lap more interesting, and Leia reached to rest a hand on his arm.

“So, perhaps you could take those two days getting to know the Lady. Wander about and explore. Provided it is in line with the Doctor’s orders of course?” he looked inquiringly at Henley.

“Capital idea, my Lord. Regular meals, Captain. Sleep. You know. The things us normal humans do.”

Piett raised an eyebrow disapprovingly at the Doctor, but wisely stayed silent.

“Now that is settled,” Anakin continued, “I wish to discuss recrewing the Lady. Captain, have you had thoughts on your lieutenants?”

“Yes, my Lord. It likely does not surprise you that I would like to have Lieutenant Venka as my first officer. I wished to ask if perhaps I should meet with the Captains of the other vessels in the fleet to discuss how to best restructure things. I would not wish to cripple the command structures of any of our ships.”

Anakin silently scored another point for Piett at the eminently sensible suggestion.

“That can be arranged, Captain. At the same time, I need my senior officers to work well together on the flagship. It will therefore be understandable if you were to request several of the men you worked with on the Devastator.”

Piett nodded. “In that case, my Lord, I would appreciate transferring Mr. Kelly as well.”

“You will need an aide.”

Piett blinked. “Will I?”

Anakin growled internally, wondering just how many ways Ozzel had sought to make this man’s life hell.

“Yes, Captain.”

“In that case…” he glanced at Leia and she smiled at him. “I think Mr. Scrapland can manage that.”

His daughter looked surprised at that, and then her face softened.

“ _ You _ Captain, are exceedingly compassionate…”

“Nonsense, my dear….” he trailed off, face once again tense as he realized what he had said, and corrected himself immediately. “I do beg your pardon. I meant to say ‘your Ladyship’.”

Leia and the Doctor sighed in tandem.

“I am unclear why there is an issue here, Captain,” Anakin said. “Is she not dear to you?”

Piett was flushing, but replied truthfully nonetheless. “Yes, my Lord, but it is not proper…”

“I do not see why she may not be addressed thus in this company, and be her Ladyship in public, if she so wishes.”

“I do so wish,” his daughter said immediately. 

Leia was looking at him with gratitude as was Piett. 

“That….thank you, my Lord,” Piett said.

“Now Doctor,” said Anakin, sparing Piett and turning his attention to Henley. “I propose you join us on the ship as well. I understand that you were also instrumental in aiding my daughter and I thank you, sir, for that consideration. It would be gratifying to work with you once again."

Henley hummed and hawed. 

“Was that a yes?” Anakin asked, amused, and Leia laughed. Henley scowled at her. 

“You have a distinct advantage here, my Lady, now that you are no longer my surgeon’s mate and I cannot tell you off.”

Anakin paused to contemplate the wonder that must have been. Piett seemed to know what he was thinking because the Captain met his eye and gave him a small smile. Was that the third time he had seen Piett smile? He returned it.

“Is that an order, Admiral?” Henley asked. Piett gave him a look out of the corner of his eye. 

“I can make it one.”

Henley stared at him unafraid for several beats.

“That will not be necessary, my Lord. Someone will need to make sure your new Captain doesn’t work himself to death. I suppose it’s too much to ask that I will have her Ladyship as the surgeon’s mate?”

Anakin met Leia’s eyes and knew they were thinking the same thing.

“You may have her, should she consent, until we are seaworthy once more.”   
  


Henley choked slightly and….. _ was that _ ….? It was. Piett had chuckled. Anakin wondered the last time the reserved Captain had allowed himself to do such a thing.

“I was speaking somewhat in jest, my Lord….”

“I assure you I was not. What do you say, Leia?”

“It would be my pleasure, Doctor,” she said graciously.

“Now that’s settled,” said Anakin, “I have instructed the Colonel and Mr. Venka to join us all for dinner in my quarters along with my officers.” He rose and they all followed suit.

“Shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admiral Lord Vader in all his glory.


	14. The Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett officially takes command of the Executor and Luke returns to the fleet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sea Fever  
> By John Masefield
> 
> I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,  
> And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;  
> And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,  
> And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
> 
> I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide  
> Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;  
> And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,  
> And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
> 
> I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,  
> To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;  
> And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,  
> And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

The ensuing months were the happiest that Piett had ever experienced.

He obeyed Henley’s directions for the first two days and explored his new ship. It was rather remarkable to actually sleep soundly and eat without hurry. To have an appetite. And he had the joy of learning his Lady, frequently in the company of the other lady in his life.

“What will be needed to repair the bow then?” he asked the carpenter, a broad Scotsman with flaming red hair.

“Well, sir, we can do a temporary patch here, but we need heavy beams of the sort we will need to cut to specifications. We’ll wait for that until we’re in Naples sir.”

Piett nodded. This had been one of the worst hit areas in the ship. The other had been the main deck, and the upper deck near the main mast. A little further over and they could have lost that mighty mast.

“You look to be doing a very creditable job, Mr. MacFarlane.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

He moved away to join her Ladyship who was conversing with one of the gun crews as they repaired the damaged carriage.

She was laughing at something and Piett could see that every one of those bluff sailors was utterly charmed by this tiny dynamo.

Well.

Hadn’t he been as well?

“My Lady,” he said, joining the group. “Shall we go up top again? Gentlemen. Thank you for the good work you are doing.”

He received a chorus of ‘sirs’ and ‘thankee sirs’. They were very polite to him, but he was the new Captain and they were not yet sure of him.

Her Ladyship took his arm and they made their way to the ladder.

“So many men were hurt or killed,” she said to him in a low voice. “How is my Father going to replace them all?”

That had actually fallen to Piett’s purview. 

“We are working on doing so from the fleet first, my Lady,” he informed her as they came up to the bright sunshine once more. “It is possible we could take on new crew in Italy. We shall see. And now, my dear, I must leave you and prepare to head over to the Devastator.”

He was saying his good byes to his former crew and gathering the rest of his things. It was bittersweet to be sure--Devastator had been his first command as a post Captain. She was not to be blamed for the hard time he had experienced upon her at Ozzel’s hands. She was a sweet lady indeed and he wished her nothing but the best.

He was piped aboard, and could feel the expectant mood of the crew immediately as he set foot on deck. 

He returned the salute of the Bosun, who was as tidy as it was possible for him to be. He was also joining Piett on the Executor, along with Venka, Veers, Kelly and Scrapland. Piett would be meeting with the commanders and Captains of the other ships in a few days time to discuss reallocating other personnel.

He directed the seamen with his chest (he did not have much after all) and then returned to the quarterdeck. 

The men had been called up by Venka who came to stand at his side, Kelly opposite him and Veers joined them, standing in the back.

Piett was so very rubbish at these sorts of things. But it was expected and he would do his duty always.

“This is as fine a crew and as sweet a lady as any could wish for in His Majesty’s navy,” he said, projecting his voice as much as possible. “It has been my privilege and pleasure to serve with you upon the Devastator.”

He paused. “I will expect to hear that you are just as efficient for Captain Horton as you have been for me. I will take this opportunity to congratulate you as I was delayed in doing so.”

_ Four days in the hold was indeed a delay. _

“Your recent and triumphant actions over Bonaparte at sea were exemplary and I am proud of each of you.”

An earsplitting ‘HUZZAH!” sounded out and the Bosun bellowed for order over the din.

“I look forward to hearing more of such exploits, and have every faith that you will continue to beat the French as soundly as the British navy has ever done!”

Another wild cheer and then a voice rang out as Piett prepared to come down to the main deck.

“Three cheers for the Captain! Hip hip!”

“Hurray!”

He flushed at the hearty cries.

“Hip hip!”

“Hurray!”

He paused at the top of the ladder to gaze at all the beaming faces looking up at him.

“Hip hip!”

“Hurray!” and caps were flung into the air and Piett felt a surge of warm gratitude for the well wishes of the crew. 

They crowded around him, eager to shake his hand and send him off. Eventually, Veers had to physically intervene on behalf of his much shorter friend in order for Piett to make it to the side and down into the boat.

“That was kind,” PIett said quietly as the seamen pulled for the Lady.

Venka smiled at him. “It was _meant_ , Captain. For a man who is not particularly gifted with height, you have left some very big shoes to fill.”

Kelly looked like he wanted to smile, but restrained himself. Veers next to him, had no such compunctions and chuckled.

“Thank you I think, Tom,” Piett told his first officer, raising an eyebrow at him.

Venka touched his hat.

*****

Two days after this, Commander Skywalker joined the fleet with Artoona and a very battered cutter, with faded gilding proclaiming her the Falcon.

The Admiral hosted all the Captains of his fleet in his dining room that evening, and at last they could all be filled in on how they had fared in each of their actions. 

Piett was seated at Lord Vader’s left hand and her Ladyship was opposite him, on his right. Her attire was simple, but she looked stunning in her white dress. Certainly the American Captain, Solo, seemed to think so as his eyes returned to her frequently from the other end of the table. Veers was next to Piett and it was a very pleasant evening indeed, particularly as Ozzel was missing, having sent a message stating he was unwell.

_ The acceptable way of acknowledging that Lord Vader did not wish his presence. _

Once the dinner things had been cleared, port and cigars were produced. Piett wondered if her Ladyship would excuse herself at this juncture, but she exchanged a look with her Father and merely rested an arm on the table, giving Piett a little smile as she did so.

He supposed he should not be surprised. Lady Skywalker would have made an excellent captain herself, and she was keen to hear of fleet movements and tactics. 

He smiled back and accepted the port, though not the cigar.

“So,” the Admiral began. “As you are all no doubt aware of by now, Executor saw intense action in the eastern Mediterannean near Crete. We were most ably aided by the Valiant and the Triumph without whom, we may not have come through.”

He raised his glass to the two captains in question, who returned the gesture.

“It has meant, as you know, that we have needed to do some restructuring. I understand that you are to meet with Captain Piett tomorrow to do so. I shall be touring the fleet and will await the results of that meeting to give my input.”

Piett was keen to work with the other Captains as this was his first time to meet most of them. They all inclined their heads or gave small smiles, so it did not appear as though he would face the level of class snobbery he had dealt with under Ozzel.

“But I wish now to turn our attention to the most pressing issue: the actual nature of the French presence in the Mediterranean. Commander Skywalker, report if you please.”

Piett watched the young man lean forward, his eyes the same intent blue as his Father’s. “Indeed. As some of you are aware, we saw action off the northeastern coast of Africa. It was unexpected to have French frigates stationed there, though I did not think it too curious at the time. However, coupled with the timing of the Admiral’s engagement off Crete, it leads me to suspect that either Bonaparte has spread his naval presence negligently thin, or he has a greater one than we originally supposed. I believe this to be the case particularly given what Captain Solo shared with me.”   
  


He turned to gesture to the American captain who was clad in borrowed British naval uniform and looking none too pleased about it. 

The other officers were also slightly stiff, Piett noted, recent events with the American colonies still fresh in everyone’s mind even fifteen years later. 

Solo seemed to note this discomfort and he grinned in the easy and impudent way that so many Americans seemed to have.

“Yes, my merchant ship was attacked by French frigates about a month back. I was imprisoned after refusing to join their crews and found myself with numerous men from your country. They informed me that they had come off one of your ships---the Alderaania, which was sunk by a ship of the line some months before that.”

Several sharp intakes of breath around the table and a few frowns.

“So that’s what happened to her,” Veers murmured in his ear beside him.

“I beg your pardon, Captain Solo, but as you Yanks have been fairly friendly with Boney in recent time, why should we hold this report credibly?”

Piett frowned at this open challenge at the dinner table as did Lord Vader, but Solo seemed to take no offense.

“I’ve always been a proponent of ‘better the devil you know than the devil you don’t’,” he replied easily. “What was true fifteen years ago is not so certain now. Both you and the Frogs seem fairly happy to attack our  _ neutral  _ ships and take our crews, so you’ll excuse me, sir, if I don’t believe you have the moral high ground here.”

Her Ladyship seemed quite interested in this statement, almost approving.

“However,” Solo continued as the man he had addressed grew slightly red and affronted, “you lot are trying to maintain order rather than take over the known world, and I have to confess that I’d rather do business with a Europe that is protected with a British naval presence and order, than the utter chaos that Boney is bringing.”

Mostly approving looks around the dining table and Piett was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt.

“At any rate,” Commander Skywalker inserted, “the crew that Captain Solo helped to escape, confirm this tale and say that it was the Marseilles that sank Alderaania.”

“The Marseilles,” Piett said, leaning around Veers to see the younger Skywalker. “Last reports had her stationed in the south Atlantic.”

“Yes, sir, I know,” the young man replied, “but she must have slipped in through the straits unnoticed, sir.”

Piett pressed his lips together. No doubt the Spanish had a hand in turning a blind eye to ships entering the Mediterranean. He had never trusted their intelligence from the start.

“Captain Piett, I think your recent engagement should be mentioned as well,” said Lord Vader, turning to him. “Not only because these events are closely overlapping, but also because your victory at three to one odds, sir, is quite the achievement and should be told to these gentlemen.”

And that damned flush was creeping up his cheeks at the praise as the attention of the table was turned upon him. He met her Ladyship’s kind eyes, shining with support across from him, and Veers gently nudged his ankle under the table.

“Ahem! Well….we had some very fortunate circumstances in our favor to be sure,” Piett began, “the wind was fully at our advantage as it happened, and my crew was already prepared to engage the French when they appeared…..”

“Yes, Piett, those are fortunate things indeed, but you used them to the best advantage, sir, so it was not mere chance that you were victorious,” interrupted the Admiral, smiling at him, and Piett inclined his head slightly, not sure what to do with such praise.

“Thank you, my Lord. At any rate, we managed to sail between the two frigates and give them both broadsides before engaging the second rate. It was the Liberte’ and I am reasonably sure that the damage she took will keep her from engagement for some months.”

There was a beat and Piett looked around the table to see that each man was looking at him with respect. He tightened his jaw slightly and Solo chuckled, breaking the silence.

“Well, sir, I would have given a great deal to see that battle. That was very daring of you---almost American, one might say.”

This statement had the effect of taking attention off of Piett so he couldn’t bring himself to be offended at the comparison. Her Ladyship was openly frowning at Solo and the other men were coughing uncomfortably which was no doubt what the man intended. Lord Vader gave him a cool stare and Commander Skywalker was smiling into his glass.

“The point of course,” Veers said, bringing the conversation back to the topic, “is that we are dealing with significant French firepower. Far more than initially thought when the fleet deployed.” 

“Precisely,” Lord Vader agreed. “I have sent this information to the Admiralty. I am hopeful that we shall receive a reply while we are in Naples for repairs.”

The meal wrapped up in happy contemplation of some time in the sunny climes of Italy and Piett was glad to be part of this company.

  
  


****

Anakin shut the door on the last of his officers and turned to his children. 

_ And when was the last time all three of them had been together? _ _   
  
_

Luke was staring very hard at his sister, who calmly poured herself some brandy, toed off her shoes and moved to curl more comfortably on the padded window bench.

“You did not have plans to travel and meet Father did you Leia?”

She sipped, savoring the alcohol and smiled sweetly at her brother.

“I did actually. I just didn’t plan to meet him face to face.”

Anakin sighed, and poured himself another brandy. 

“Luke, your sister disguised herself as a boy and embarked on the Devastator in Portsmouth.”

His son blinked and then crossed his arms.

“Of _course_ you did. I was afraid you’d do something like this last time we talked. Why are you dressed as yourself now?”

“Because the Captain recognized me.”

“Piett?”   
  


“Yes.”

His son emptied the decanter into his own glass. 

“How did he respond to that revelation?”

“He helped me continue in my disguise until we could rendezvous with Father. And here we are.”

Anakin could see Luke was torn between admiring his sister’s courage and wanting to admonish her on the dangers. Leia beat him to it.

“I have already heard all about the concerns for my safety from Father, and Captain Piett, and Dr. Henley. But Luke,  _ you  _ know better than anyone, that I cannot sit on the sidelines.”

And Anakin’s heart hurt anew at this----his son did indeed know her better. Likely knew her best in the world. His own Captain understood his daughter better than he did.

Luke sighed and came to perch next to her to more easily get his arm around her shoulders.

“I do know, sister of mine. And damn, you are amazing. You were there then, for that action off of Spain?”

She nodded eagerly. “Oh yes. Luke, it was marvelous. I mean, not people getting hurt or dying, but the strategic thought the Captain gave to what happened….and his crew were magnificent…”

His daughter’s eyes were shining at the memory. She was made of the stuff that led men into battle, Anakin reflected. She was of the same English spirit as Elizabeth I or the older Saxon line----the fighting blood ran strong. 

“What now?” Luke asked, looking to his Father.

“Now, we carry out our orders, which is to hunt down the French fleet and cripple it. When we are successful, we shall return to England and receive new orders.”

He looked at his twins---the dark head and the light, both close together once more and knew the time was right.

“I…..I….. must ask forgiveness from you both.”

Leia had likely seen this coming, but Luke’s earnest blue gaze was surprised.

“Whatever for, Father?”

He sipped his brandy and came to stand near them, leaning against a wide beam.

“For not being the Father you both needed. For handing you off to tutors and governesses. For neglecting my duty. Your mother…..”

He paused and they watched him solemnly. 

“Your mother would be most displeased with me. And rightly so.”   
  


His children glanced at each other in that strange and deep way that twins had.

“Of course we forgive you, Father,” this was Luke and Anakin had expected that. He smiled at his son, but his gaze was on his daughter swiftly. His daughter whom he had wronged more deeply…..

She met his gaze with those gorgeous brown eyes and studied him.

“Leia. You told me once that…..that you wondered if I couldn’t be around you because you looked too much like your mother.”

And those lovely eyes were suddenly swimming. He set his glass down, resolved that the time for British stiff upper lips did not apply in the moment. He gestured to his son and Luke budged over, allowing Anakin to seat himself between his offspring and draw Leia close to his chest.

“You do look like her, my beautiful daughter. But...I was not trying to avoid you. I promise you that. I was more selfish----my duty made it easy to lose myself to all else. I could surround myself with regulations, a naval schedule and the confidence I was serving my King and Country. In that way…..in that way I didn’t have to think about the children of my dear wife and cause myself pain. Forgive my selfishness, both of you.”

The brunette head nodded on his chest and Luke flung a friendly arm around his Father’s shoulders.

“Leia, we were both rubbish to you. I promise to do better,” his sunny dispositioned child declared, and Leia sniffed and laughed.

“Thank you Luke. I have  _ missed  _ you so.” Anakin’s arm tightened around her. 

“We will figure it out my dear ones.” The three of them sat in happy content on the bench.

Then--

“I think Captain Solo might  _ fancy  _ you, Leia.”

A disgusted snort from his daughter and Anakin chuckled. 

His heart was whole once more.

  
  


***

They completed the necessary repairs for the two days’ sail to Naples and set forth when the winds were fair enough from the south.

Piett reviewed reports in his cabin while the Admiral took his daily constitutional around the decks of the Lady.

Her Ladyship was pursuing the very feminine art of sewing as she adjusted one of her own frocks, perched on his window bench behind Piett’s desk, where she had a stunning view of the sea they were leaving astern. 

Scrapland was packing Piett’s finished reports in oilcloth in preparation to send them on to the Admiralty. He finished and tucked them under his arm and came to stand before Piett’s desk, standing with all his gawky limbs under as much control as he could give them.

“Was there anything else, sir?” he asked.

The boy was so very earnest and eager to please. Piett suppressed a smile and put down his pen. 

“No, Mr. Scrapland, that will be all, thank you.”

He turned his eyes back to the fleet reports, but realized that the young officer was hesitating.

“What is it, Mr. Scrapland?” he asked, and her Ladyship came up behind him to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Well , sir, I just, um….I wanted to tell you…”

He was clearly exceedingly nervous, and Piett didn’t need to see her to know that her Ladyship was smiling at the boy, because he went red, but also seemed to take heart. 

“I wanted to say, Captain, that I very much appreciate you giving me this assignment. I…..I know I’m not the most competent…..or…..or clever officer you could have appointed and….so…”

He took a breath. “Thank you for the kindness, sir.”

_ And what to say to that?  _

It was true that Scrapland was not the best suited for this position. He had already managed to spill some ink on one of Piett’s reports, which had entailed a rewrite. He routinely ran into the edge of tables or doorframes and had once accidentally put salt in Piett’s coffee instead of sugar. And that was in the space of a week. 

But Piett had not felt right in his soul to leave the young midshipman on the Devastator. He was sure that the new Captain would be fair. He was  _ not  _ certain how Ozzel and his ilk would treat the boy, as it had been no secret that he was quite loyal to Piett.

“Mr. Scrapland,” he said, giving him a small smile. “I was not looking for the most competent man in this position. That can be taught I think. I was looking for the most loyal. And you have certainly been that, Matthew.”

The boy seemed to glow at that, green eyes bright with that encouragement.

“I…. _thank_ you, sir. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, Captain.”

“All right, Mr. Scrapland. Get to it now.”

“Yes sir!” He saluted and almost darted out the door.

Piett shook his head as her Ladyship spoke behind him. 

“ _ You _ , Captain, are a dear.”

Piett snorted, though he could not help the surge of pleasure at being referred to so affectionately. Even when his family lived, he had not been given _affection_. In a world where children died routinely, his mother had kept herself aloof.

“Your Ladyship, a Captain in His Majesty’s Navy is not a ‘dear’. He is an officer with duties and responsibilities. Further I am your Father’s Captain. Dignity must be maintained.”

Her hand tightened on his shoulder as he picked up his pen once more.

“Very true. But you are also  _ my  _ Captain, and can have all of your responsibilities and your dignity while  _ also _ being a dear.”

She kissed his cheek and he flushed immediately, having nothing to say to that. He brought his own hand up to pat the one on his shoulder.

He was her Captain indeed, he reflected, and she had his devotion in equal measure to His Majesty’s navy.

****

Land had been spotted and the Admiral joined Piett near the rail as he put his own telescope to his eye and yes, hazy on the horizon he could see the shores of southern Italy. 

Piett had felt the difference as the winds that swept around that peninsula had joined with the southerly ones, so that they were frequently switching tacks to maintain their course.

But even in her damaged state, the Lady had responded sweetly and Piett was rather in love. He had been on many ships now in his career. He would always have a soft spot for the Devastator because she was his first posting as Captain. 

But the Executor…..

She was so very elegant. A massive first rate indeed, but she moved so very smoothly, never ponderous. Her lines were perfection and it physically pained him to lay his eyes on the damaged areas. 

_ Soon _ , he thought,  _ soon we will repair those wounds, Lady, and bring you back to your pristine condition.  _

He laid a hand on her rail, smoothing his fingers over the polished wood.

Next to him, Lord Vader chuckled.

“You feel it too don’t you?”

“My Lord?”

“Our Lady is special indeed. I have never commanded a ship like her. I do not know what magic went into her making in the dockyards of Aberdeen, but there was love there. She responds much more like a frigate. Something unique in her hull design--just that much different from Devastator and her sisters.”

The taller man angled a look down at him. “But there is also that undefinable  _ something _ , isn’t there, Captain?”

Piett looked up at the blooming sails above him, standing in relief against the warm blue sky.

“Yes, sir.”

“Once she is ship shape once more, I look forward to taking her into battle with you, Captain.”

Piett clasped his hands behind his back, feeling a deep satisfaction, the likes of which he had not known before. He felt they could take on Bonaparte by themselves.

“I will be honored to do so, my Lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone needs me, I'm going to go join everyone on the Lady and sail for a bit. It's calling me. ;)


	15. French and Flu Alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin reflects on his new Captain as they prepare to set sail once more. And the Lady and her fleet see action!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really time for some action now I think. Piett's first time taking the Lady into battle. I had great fun reading about Nelson literally leading a boarding party onto an enemy ship while he was an Admiral. I figured----if Admiral Nelson could do this in real life you better believe our Captain will do it here in our story! ;D  
> I hope you enjoy!

Anakin set down the letter, just delivered from the shore, and stared at the missive in thought. The squadron he had sent off with Luke to the southern Mediterranean would not return for another full week. Much could change in that time. And his orders were to embark immediately.

For 6 weeks, the Executor had been docked in Naples as her repairs proceeded. It was the ideal climate for a swift repair---summer in the Mediterranean coasts was warm to be sure, but it also meant that they did not have to delay repairs for weather as often happened in the northern climes.

The rest of the crew not working on the repairs was kept busy cleaning the ship from stem to stern, and then loading the supplies that Piett and the purser were obtaining. 

And Piett was a Godsend of immense proportions.

Anakin rose to retrieve his hat and move outside. 

Captain Michaels had been a very good man and competent commander. But there had always been a slightly cold and calculated way to his leadership. The men and the ship were his tools. Oh, he was fair to his crew. But they were more a means to an end. His life was the navy and his personality was one that was well suited to taking orders without question, and carrying them out. He was therefore not particularly creative, and had little conversation with his Admiral outside of naval duties and the workings of the ship.

Piett however, while also being devoted to the navy, was of a nature that took joy in beauty and people. He didn’t say so overtly (he was too reserved for that)---it was in the looks that he gave to a glorious sunset, or the satisfied little curl to his mouth as he watched sails being furled in efficient ways. It was in the nods he would give to crewmen as he passed on the deck, or the way his face transformed when Leia would join him to chat as he moved around the ship. 

Anakin had looked over the man’s career and done some digging into his background, given that Piett had risen to his post in a more unconventional fashion for someone from such working class roots. He had worked very hard to get where he was.

The Mancunian accent was all but gone--clearly he had striven to rid himself of it at some point. Anakin knew well what the Naval Academy could be like, and who Piett would have been surrounded with there. 

It seemed that much of the Captain’s life had been a struggle. But Nelson at least had seen the worth of his lieutenant, and given him a gift that he likely would not have received from any other commander in promoting him to post Captain. 

He was reserved and quiet, but he had a presence about him nonetheless that people noted. And this amused Anakin given the diminutive stature of the man (not that he would ever say so to his face) But it reminded him that some men were just born to command, and Piett was one of those. 

And he had felt immediately about the Lady as Anakin had. That first little caress of her polished railing had not been the last, and Piett seemed to like reminding his ship by touch that she was his and he cared for her. Anakin could relate to this. 

The Captain had also made it a priority to know his crew as well as possible. The first weeks, he could be found in almost any part of the ship--making his presence known and asking intelligent questions about the jobs and status of the various decks.

When he wasn’t ashore with the purser tracking down foodstuffs, he was aboard watching the repairs and occasionally taking a hand personally. Sometimes he was needed and sometimes not, but the men allowed it because it was more than mere gesture. Piett cared for the Lady and wanted things done right. The crew could see this as well, and for the most part managed not to let any smiles slip when their small Captain would shrug off his jacket, roll up his sleeves and throw his weight behind a cable as they hauled a beam into position. 

Anakin found the man in question on the quarterdeck overseeing the loading of water barrels as the sweating crewman hauled the heavy casks up to swing into the hold.

Leia was with him, looking practically Italian herself, being so tanned from the sun. A far cry from the English lady he had left behind when he sailed.

The Bosun was yelling encouragement and keeping an eye on the cables. The man took great pride in his work and would be personally affronted if one strand was out of place. 

Piett noticed him first and turned.

“Sir.”

“Captain. How goes it?”

“Almost done, my Lord. We are waiting for a boatload of cured meats and the flour, but the livestock have been brought on board and the repairs look to be completed in the next 24 hours.”

Italy was Anakin’s favorite place to resupply when it came to foodstuffs. They were masters of dried meat, and the cheeses kept very well indeed. He had personally put down the wine as well, and felt a surge of satisfaction again at all the bottles stored in his personal cabinet in his cabin. 

Anakin considered what Piett had said. “I have received orders, Captain, that we are to embark immediately to hunt down the French. I received word from the Admiralty just now.”

It had allowed communication to be swifter, being docked in Naples. He had sent off his findings of a greater French presence than supposed as soon as they arrived. The Admiralty shared with him that there was reason to suspect a muster of the French fleet coming out of Marseilles. It was likely they were looking to have a major confrontation and establish a much needed dominance for Bonaparte in the Mediterranean. 

Piett looked at his Admiral and placed his hands behind his back. “How immediately, my Lord?”

“When do you expect the boat from the mainland?”

“In the next three hours, my Lord.”

“Then we shall embark at that time.”

Piett raised his eyebrows and turned to Anakin’s daughter.

“My Lady…..”

“I have had this discussion,” Leia told him calmly, patting his arm. “Both with you and with my Father. I can be of great service to Doctor Henley. I am staying.”

They had indeed had this conversation. Very loudly. In his quarters. And in the end, he himself had found that he did not like the thought of leaving his daughter behind once more, this time in a foreign country. And Napoleon's presence in the Northern parts of Italy was dangerous. Leia must sail with them---the danger on the first rate being less than that on land. 

He had then had this discussion with his Captain, and appreciated that the man had the same sorts of concerns for his daughter’s safety, though he certainly expressed them more circumspectly to his Admiral. 

Piett had sighed when it became clear that Leia’s wishes were to be respected, and Anakin had laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

_ “She is her mother’s daughter in this respect I’m afraid, Captain. And while I tried all the arguments you just did, she is not to be moved short of physically doing so. So. We shall do our best to keep her safe on board. And you cannot tell me that a part of you isn’t pleased.” _

_ Piett had smiled at him ruefully. “I cannot, that is true. Please tell me, my Lord, that I shall not see her operating a cannon.” _

_ Anakin had grinned back. “That I think I can promise, Piett. But I thank you for your care for my daughter. I rather suspect you are remarkably close to finding yourself referred to as ‘Uncle Firmus’.” _

_ Piett had flushed deeply at that. “My Lord….I…” _

_ “Not ashamed to be thus associated with the Skywalkers I trust, Captain?” _

_ “No, sir, of course not, but I would not presume….” _

_ Anakin had handed him a tumbler of brandy. “You are not, Piett. But Leia is very fond of you. I think you should understand that if she has claimed someone as one of her people, that is a lifetime commitment. And she is quite particular about people. It has helped to confirm that I was right to appoint you to the Lady.” _

_ “.....thank you, sir,” Piett had managed and taken a swift drink. _

“What of Commander Skywalker and his squadron, my Lord?” Piett asked.

“I shall leave word with the harbormaster to rejoin us at all speed.”

“Very good, Admiral. Then, with your permission, I shall give orders to begin to weigh anchor.”   
  


“Carry on, Captain.”   
  


*****

  
  


Veers coughed again trying to rid himself of the damn tickle in his throat as he watched his men lending a hand to the gun crews as they cleaned and prepared each of their ladies for potential action.

He stalked about, trying not to curse internally at the heat. His red uniform may look as it ought for the British Empire, but it was damn hot under the wool and he was feeling slightly….off.

Oh nothing serious---a slight headache, but he was achy all over, no doubt as a consequence of the last several days’ heavy labor.

There was only a slight breeze and Veers almost found himself wishing to be up with the seamen in the rigging, attired in their lighter uniform.

He shook himself.

No place for such thoughts as those. He may have become close friends with the Captain of this ship, but he was a  _ Marine _ , and he would bloody well look like one! 

Said Captain was pacing around on the quarterdeck like a nervous lion, watching continuously for enemy movement. His face was utterly stoic, but Veers knew Piett well enough now to know that his friend was coiled tightly inside. 

His officers knew this as well and were supremely efficient as a result. If Piett was expecting action, he was usually right, so Venka, Kelly, and the rest were keeping a close eye on their men.

However, Veers was aware that there was another reason for the Captain’s unceasing measured stride on the quarterdeck.

Her Ladyship was down with influenza and confined to her cabin. Dr. Henley had seemed very confident that it was only a mild case and that she would recover well. She was of a hearty stock after all. Regardless, all of them had seen such cases develop into worse things--especially in a fleet or an army where illnesses could rip through and cause more devastation than weapons.

Fifteen of the men were also ill, though only two were in Executor's sickbay up in the forecastle. Veers glanced over as one of the gun crew captains coughed into his sleeve and raised his eyes to meet Ellery’s. 

While influenza did not strike dread into the hearts of men the way that typhus did, it could still cripple them enough that engaging the French would be a serious problem. 

The Admiralty was not all that understanding for a ship of the line not carrying out her orders for something as trifling as influenza. Veers did not envy Piett the decisions he had to make nor the recommendations to his Admiral. 

Because if this swept the fleet Lord Vader would ultimately be the one to decide their course of action. 

“Sail ho!” cried the look out in the mizzen mast. “Southwest by south! Two more!”

Piett had his telescope to his eye in moments, then cursed when he couldn’t see anything from his position. The Captain shimmied smoothly down the ladder to the main deck and reached the rigging in seconds, swinging himself up and climbing with impressive speed to get a better view.

Half of the men on the gun crews were left with their mouths hanging open at the fact that their Captain had just accomplished this feat, and the Bosun bellowed for them to get to work as Piett scanned the horizon.

Veers himself was impressed. He knew his friend was skilled in his seamanship, but the Colonel was doing his best not to grin at the fearless climb as the Captain balanced supremely well, holding on with one hand. 

“Bring us about!” Piett roared. “Set full sail! Get as much of this wind as we can!”

He moved swiftly back to the deck and was back up to the quarterdeck in a heartbeat, Venka hard pressed to keep up with him. Veers joined them.

“Three to five ships,” Piett said curtly. “Hard to say definitively yet, but given their position and heading, I’m willing to bet they’re French. At least one first rate. Mr. Kelly,” he rapped out without missing a beat, “My compliments to the Admiral but I think we need his presence on deck.”   
  


“Colonel?” he asked Veers looking up at him and raising his eyebrows.

“My men are ready, sir,” Veers responded with a small smile. Piett returned it swiftly, the light of battle in those hazel eyes, and then moved to the rail to holler down to the bosun.

“Beat to quarters!”

Lord Vader appeared, pistols on his belt.

“A sighting then, Captain Piett?” he said with supreme calm and the slighter man handed the Admiral his telescope. 

“Yes my Lord, they should be visible now. Southwest by south, sir.”

The Admiral took a long moment. 

“Possible first rate. The rest seem to be an assortment of sloops and frigates.”   
  


“Yes, my Lord.”

Lord Vader handed the telescope back to Piett and considered.

“Signal Excelsior and Triumph. Have them take position directly behind us.They are to break formation to starboard and larboard respectively when we are a quarter mile from the enemy.”

  
  
Piett repeated the order to the signalmen. 

Veers understood. It would be difficult for the enemy to tell them apart this way, and get an accurate idea of the size of Vader’s fleet.

He moved down to the main deck, striding down the rows of his marines, assessing them with a critical eye. Another damn cough broke from his chest and this time it was painful.

Ellery appeared at his side.

“Colonel, perhaps you should see Dr. Henley, sir.”

Veers gave him a very cold eyebrow indeed. 

“A small cough, Sergeant, and we are about to engage the enemy. I think not.”

Suitably abashed the Sergeant saluted. “Yes, sir.” But he had that glint in his eye that told Veers the subject was not forgotten. 

******

Venka motioned sharply at Scrapland to slow down as the boy hurried to retrieve Piett’s pistol and sword from the Captain’s cabin. 

“We are in conflict with the French, Mr. Scrapland, let’s not worry about getting spitted on our own swords, hm?”

“Yes, sir, sorry sir.” The boy flushed and moved at a more sedate pace to Piett, offering the weapons to his Captain.

Piett took the pistol, checked the charge and stuck it into his belt. 

The sword was new and he took it more reverently. It was a lovely piece of craftsmanship to be sure and had been presented to Executor’s Captain while they were in Naples as a reward for his service on the Devastator in their action off of Spain.

Lord Vader had presented it to him with all the Senior officers present, and Piett had flushed in that way he had when attention was upon him, but Venka had rarely seen his Captain look so pleased. He had caught Veers’ eye, and the two of them had exchanged a very small smile. 

Her Ladyship had buckled it on for him, and he looked quite dashing indeed with the gleaming gold grip and iron hilt at his hip.

He drew the blade halfway, checking swiftly for any debris or rust, but Venka was sure it was polished to within an inch of its life.

Piett buckled on the sword quickly.

“Thank you, Mr. Scrapland. You have your weapons?”   
  


“Yes, Captain,” the midshipman said, displaying his dirk with flourish, and Piett sighed slightly.

“Yes, Mr. Scrapland. Keep it sheathed until needed, man, I don’t need casualties inflicted by ourselves.”

It was amusingly similar to what Venka had just said, and Scrapland shot him a guilty look before walking (he was learning) back to his position on the main deck. 

Venka waited, knowing that Piett would come to him. He always gave himself a moment before he checked in with his first officer.

“Well Tom,” he said calmly, coming to Venka’s side, “Forward batteries for our Lady, we’ll let Triumph and Excelsior give the next blast. That way we can reserve two broadsides for coming about.”

“Aye, sir,” Venka nodded, trying to ignore the small thrill of excitement. It was not befitting an officer of His Majesty’s navy to show excitement. He must behave as though these actions were every day occurrences. That acts of mighty heroism were the bread and butter for a British seamen. 

Lesser navies of lesser countries may consider these engagements heroic. It was par for the course in the British navy. Venka allowed his spine to straighten slightly, resting his hand on his own much simpler sword. Next to him, Piett placed his hands behind his back and did he just….?

He had. The Captain had rocked ever so slightly up on his toes.

Venka battened down his smile. The Captain was just as eager for the conflict as he was. Venka was a navy man. His father and grandfather were navy men before him and he was deeply proud of this tradition.

His own service in the navy had been respectable and he had served with good men. He had served with very average men as well, and a few truly terrible ones.

_ He would not ponder their recently departed vice-Admiral, he was in a good place in his thoughts.  _

But this last year…..

Piett had been everything he could have hoped for in a Captain. And now that he served with Lord Vader directly, as well as Piett, Venka found himself almost as giddy as a schoolboy at the prospect of action under the leadership of the two men.

In lieu of disgracing himself by letting his eagerness show, Venka put his telescope to his eye once more. At last he could see them clearly and they had apparently fallen for Lord Vader’s ruse. 

The British fleet was a far superior force here, but no doubt looked smaller due to the placement of their ships.

The French tri-color was now showing and Venka could confirm that they were indeed dealing with a first rate, though he did not recognize her.

“I make two frigates, sir, and cutter and…..a brig.”

Piett nodded, hands clasped tightly behind his back again, and spine as straight as an arrow.

_ Oh yes, the Captain was like a warhorse scenting battle. Venka didn’t want to be anywhere else.  _

“I think it is likely we will try to damage the first rate and then come about to deal with one of the frigates. Signal Commander Skywalker that he is to deal with the brig.”   
  


“Aye, sir.”

The tension was palpable as the French drew closer and Venka was waiting for his Captain, who was in turn watching Lord Vader.

Venka could hear his own heart thundering as he stood in position on the larboard side of the quarterdeck, Piett opposite him.

Faintly over the water the calls of their enemies sounded, mixing with the sounds of the creaking gun carriages and the wind in the sails.

Executor breathed as one, girding herself…..

“Captain,” said Lord Vader calmly.

“Hard a larboard!” called Piett and Venka repeated it.

The helmsman spun the wheel and they moved to the starboard side of the first rate, revealing Triumph and Excelsior, who were both taking their separate tacks as well, fanning out to become a single line of firepower bearing down upon the French fleet.

The gun captains were all like hounds at the leash for Piett’s command.

“Starboard guns ready!”

The fuses were hovering.

“Fire!”

The front half of the starboard deck guns burst forth their barrage. Right on the heels of this, Veers was booming over the noise, and his marines were picking their targets on the French ship as they passed her.

She returned fire hitting them midships and a hail of splinters and shrapnel exploded across the deck.

Then they were past her and headed toward the cutter which was using its more agile form to skid swiftly over the waves. Piett didn’t waste any time on her---the Lady was not made for speed and maneuverability. And he intended to take the first rate.

“Clear the decks!” Venka yelled over the screams of the wounded and the orders of various gun crews. “Clear for action, blast you!”   
  


The sailors were doing a magnificent job as Piett bellowed orders to tack behind him, and the Lady made her wide turn, ignoring the cutter with supreme indifference and coming about to face her sister ships, both doing a terrific job at destruction on the frigates.

Further to the north, the younger Skywalker was in hot pursuit of the brig, but Venka couldn’t spare much of a thought for that.

They were coming around fully now and looked to be approaching the first rate’s larboard. Venka could see her name now--the Devoir. Veers was lining up his marines to prepare for close action and Venka waited tensely as Piett conferred with Lord Vader.

“Parties for close action!” Piett called, and the order was repeated.

“You’ll lead the second party, Mr. Venka,” Piett told him and the battle gleam was there in his eyes. Venka returned it and shook the Captain’s proffered hand.

“Aye, Captain. Good luck, sir.”

And they were upon the Devoir.

*****

Baldwin thrust at another Frenchie. He may not be the most skilled hand with a sword, but he made up for it with superior strength. _And by God, they were not going to get in between him and his Captain!_

The Bosun was hard pressed to keep up with the smaller man as they pressed forward onto the main decks of the French ship. 

Veers and his marines had wreaked great havoc already, and the boarding parties from the Lady were able to come across to the Devoir safely before the close fighting started.

Baldwin had already decided his personal mission was the Captain’s safety, and he stayed at Piett’s back as the man fought toward the quarterdeck.

Cannons fired again and the smoke was creating a haze. Baldwin was certain he smelled fire somewhere as well, which was a concern as Executor had locked yardarms with her French counterpart.

He did his best to tune out the numerous French yells around him, the sounds of rifle and pistol fire, and the gurgles and cries of dying men. He kept his focus on the straight blue back in front of him as they fought their way through numerous French, and then Piett was scrambling up the ladder to the quarterdeck, having found the French Captain, and the clash of their steel rang in the Bosun’s ears.

Baldwin had dispensed with his sword by this point, and found an oar which he wielded to great effect, clubbing anything that came near the two captains as they ranged around the quarterdeck. 

The Frenchman was skilled, more so than his British counterpart, but Piett was faster and his smaller stature helped him here. 

And, the Bosun reflected, nothing he knew of could touch Piett’s fierce spirit, and certainly nothing French was going to stand in the face of British courage. 

Piett ducked under a swipe that might have just clipped a few hairs off the top of his head (leaving Baldwin’s heart in his mouth) and managed to prick the captain in the thigh.

The other man swore in French and took a wild and angry swing at Piett, catching him across the ribs, and sending him to the deck. 

The Bosun roared in tandem with another voice, and suddenly Veers was there, looking like the god of war with his red coat and bloody face, and he parried a blow meant for his Captain as Piett rolled to his feet.

Between the two of them the French captain was swiftly overwhelmed and he raised his hands, allowing his sword to swing harmlessly from his fingers.

“Monsieur le Capitan,” he said proffering his sword to Piett, who returned his blade to its sheath and accepted it, Veers a frightening presence beside him. 

Baldwin blinked the sweat and smoke from his eyes to see that the fore mast had been shattered and narrowly missed crashing onto Executor’s fo’csle. 

He turned back at his name.

“Mr. Baldwin, please see to it that that fire is put out,” Piett ordered, holding his side.

Baldwin shoved down the concern he felt at that, but did dare to ask.

“Aye sir. Captain, your wound….”

Piett waved him off. “A cut, I assure you.”

Veers angled a look down at their commander, but chose not to say anything. And if he wasn’t kicking up a fuss, then the Bosun didn’t need to either. 

Baldwin grabbed several hands and went below to find the fire. As he had suspected, one of the fuse buckets had tipped, starting the fire, though happily it was still in a containable phase.

He and his crew made swift work of putting out the flames, and the Bosun left two of them to keep watch before reporting back to the deck of the Devoir. 

Piett was directing the transfer of prisoners to the Executor as well as the clearing of the damaged decks on the French ship. Venka was visible, sooty and with a bandage on his upper arm, but just as determined as his Captain to secure their prize, while Veers and his marines threw themselves into prisoner transfer and shifting shattered masts.

The Bosun watched the senior officers---pillars of strength in the haze and the aftermath of battle-- and reflected that it was no wonder cultures through the ages had legends and heroes. Here, on these wooden decks, Britain forged her own.


	16. Setbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Influenza sweeps the fleet and Piett recommends a pause therefore in their pursuit of the French.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We take a breath here to allow our people to recuperate. But the penultimate battle awaits....and all that goes with it.  
> May I once again thank you all for reading and for all the lovely comments. I may have mentioned that this story has rapidly become one of my favorites to the point that I need to do some deleted scenes in a separate collection because I have loved it so much. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“How are you this morning, my Lord?” Piett asked, standing to attention in Lord Vader’s day cabin with his hat under his arm.

“How do you think, Piett?” the Admiral grumbled, gesturing to the arm now in a sling. He had been hit by a bullet during their recent encounter and Henley was taking no chances. This, and the Admiral himself had been sneezing for two days---the result of a head cold in his case, the Doctor thought, and not influenza.

In sum, it made for a very miserable commanding officer, and Piett had thus shouldered much of the burdens of command as they were still lacking a vice Admiral at the moment. 

“I would think it is deeply uncomfortable, my Lord,” Piett responded, honestly.

“Then why  _ ask _ ?” growled Lord Vader, and Piett considered how to answer  _ that _ .

“It’s the expected thing to do, my Lord.”

That was skating just on the edge of cheek, but Piett was a master of the serious tone and grave countenance---had practiced at length under Ozzel after all. 

His commanding officer stared at him for a moment and then chuckled.

“Oh you can tell me to bugger off, Piett. I’m fractious and this damn wound hurts and I’m taking it out on you.”

“Sir, I do not see myself ever doing such a thing,” Piett responded with great respect, but he raised an eyebrow and gave Lord Vader a small smile in return.

“All right,” the Admiral said, waving his free hand, “report. I know you have a million and one things to do, and I need to resume my bad temper so….”

“My Lord,” Piett hesitated slightly, knowing that Vader would not care to hear what he had to propose, but neither did he like hesitant officers, so Piett hastily straightened his posture.

“I need to recommend that we break off pursuit of the French fleet and head for Oran, my Lord.”

There was a beat.

Lord Vader, seated on his window seat, stared at him keenly.

“You wish to countermand Admiralty orders, Captain. I hope you have good reason.”   
  


Piett longed to place his hands behind his back, but he had his hat. He gave a very slight sigh.

“Yes, Admiral. Influenza is sweeping the fleet, sir. I am struggling to crew our watches and have received reports of the same from most of our other ships. We need to transfer our prisoners and send a ship to England, my Lord, and I do not have enough men for a prize crew for the Devoir and the Marguerite. Their presence in our fleet is challenging, given the damage Devoir took, my Lord.”

Vader considered this.

“Why Oran?”

“Returning to Sicily will take too long, my Lord. We have a better chance for this epidemic to clear up more quickly if we can dock soon and have access to the fresh water and fruits that will be found on the African coasts. So Dr. Henley tells me. It will also provide us with an opportunity to repair the damages to our hull and mainyard.”

Vader nodded. “And Oran is run by the Turks who will be more friendly to us given recent events….”   
  


Piett waited tensely watching the Admiral consider this. He knew Vader was fair, but he was also tasked to destroy the French fleet. The Admiralty had not given any exceptions in case of the flu. He was asking his commander to make a significant decision, which he would answer for.

“Trouble keeping Executor crewed, eh?” his Lordship asked rising and coming to stand before Piett, studying him critically.

“Yes, my Lord. I am asking a great deal of all the men who are still able bodied. In essence I am having to assign watch on watch, sir. There’s been no complaint,” he added hastily. “They understand the situation, my Lord, but I would wish not to treat my crew this way.”

“Mmm.” Lord Vader gave him an unreadable look.

“And you, Captain? I understood you were injured in our conflict?”

Cursing Henley colorfully in his mind, Piett kept his face impassive and merely inclined his head.

“A slight cut, my Lord, nothing more I assure you.”

This was true. It stung and burned under the bandage and had required fifteen stitches, but was not dangerous. 

Lord Vader snorted. “I am learning with you Piett, that your definitions of ‘slight’ or ‘mild’ are not to be trusted when it comes to your health. You have nothing to prove to me, man.”

“Sir…..” Piett bit his lip. “I am not striving to do so. I merely am stating fact, and Dr. Henley is a bit…. over fastidious at times.”

“Dr. Henley did not inform me of your wound, Piett.”

He frowned. Veers was down in his cabin with this damned illness and Piett was striving not to be overly worried for his friend. Her Ladyship was recovering, but had been told nothing of his injury so he really couldn’t think how his Lordship could have known. Venka was more circumspect than that….

The Admiral gave him another small smile. “I have my sources, Captain. Assume that I know everything on this ship. I know we are in a difficult situation. It would be made far more so if you work yourself to death as well. You are not to stand double watches, clear?”

_ Damn and blast, the man could see right through him apparently.  _

“Yes, my Lord,” Piett responded stiffly. 

“Very well, Captain. Take us to Oran. Dismissed.”

Piett touched his forehead and left the cabin to give orders to the helmsman and Venka who was on watch. Then he made his way to Veers’ cabin to check in, and tried to tell himself that he was not being a fussy nursemaid.

Sergeant Ellery was seated by Veers’ bunk, cleaning his musket with careful attention, the bayonet lay gleaming on the table beside him. The big man had taken it on himself immediately to care for his Colonel when it had become overwhelmingly apparent that Veers was quite ill after the battle, and had stumbled back aboard the Lady between Ellery and Piett. 

Ellery had been incredible---tender as a woman and able to lift his Colonel as needed to change his sweat soaked clothes or coax him into eating and drinking. 

Veers was strong and Henley was convinced he would come through, but it had been one of the more serious cases, and the strain of that had left Piett sleepless for two nights. Thus why he had given himself multiple watches, not that Lord Vader needed to know  _ that _ . 

“Would you like to go to the mess, Sergeant?” he asked, shrugging out of his blue jacket. “I can stay for a while.”

“Thank you sir, a bite wouldn’t go amiss. I’ll be but twenty minutes.”

Piett took his vacated chair, setting his jacket and hat on the table and studying his sleeping friend. He was sure it was sleep now and not fevered delirium, for which the Captain was grateful. 

This business of having friends, Piett reflected, was rather fraught with all sorts of emotional foundering. 

He had hated being alone, but had learned to live with it out of necessity. It was that ,or let it break him, and Piett was not made of stuff that broke easily. The navy had been a Godsend. Oh certainly the academy years had been miserable, but he had struggled through and told himself that all that mattered were his studies---he didn’t need the camaraderie of others. 

Once he received his first posting as a midshipman, he at least had men with whom he worked amicably enough. But he had learned his lesson well and friendship was not something he would risk. 

Instead, he made it his goal to be the best officer he could be on behalf of the Crown first, and his crew second. Piett had seen far too much injustice and abuse in the navy, and he was determined to right that wherever he might find it. This stance had cost him at times (and he had some physical scars as well) but the peace of not violating his moral code was worth it.

Eventually, as fate would have it, he had been posted to Nelson’s ship and served under the man for a year, culminating in the victory at the Nile.

And all of that led here, he thought, watching Veers’ chest rise and fall, to hovering over a Marine colonel who had showed him the same scrupulous fairness and respect that Piett strove to give others. And who could have predicted the strange friendship between the working class man from Manchester who had given blood and sweat for everything he’d ever received, and the blue blooded Colonel striving to make his own name apart from his family’s privilege?

Sitting down may have been a mistake, Piett decided. Sore muscles, sleepless nights and a healing wound were all conspiring to pull him into sleep as well.

Ruthlessly he rose, ignoring his body’s protests, and paced the small cabin. It was comfortable as officer’s berths went, but not as large as his or the Admiral’s to be sure. 

Ellery happily returned and Piett gathered his uniform, put a hand to Veers’ shoulder and nodded to the Sergeant.

He had one more visit to make and made his way to her Ladyship’s quarters next to his own. His knock received an ‘enter!’ and he obeyed, removing his hat once more and coming into the day cabin where he was pleased to see her Ladyship was resting in a comfortable chair they had brought on in Naples.

The girl had done much with her cabin in this time-- and it was tastefully furnished with comforts more befitting her station. They had also employed her a local woman to be her maid, and Signora Castila was an Italian mother in every possible way. She had claimed Lady Leia as her family immediately, and her ability to bawl out any who trespassed that rivalled that of the Bosun even if they couldn’t understand most of it. 

Piett spoke passable Italian, though his French was better. This had endeared him inexplicably to the woman early on, and ‘Capitano Piett’ could also do no wrong which had provided an endless source of teasing from Veers, and a ridiculous amount of smirking from Venka. 

After assuring the Signora that he did not have time for coffee or tea, he seated himself beside her Ladyship, taking the hand she gave him and raising it to his lips.

“It is so good of you to say hello,” she told him with a smile, and he was delighted to see color back in her cheeks. 

“Of course, my dear. I wouldn’t abandon you here, you know that.”

And he hadn’t. He had come every day to inquire and had ended up reading to her since the Signora could not read, and her Ladyship was both feverish and bored---not a good combination for anyone, but particularly Skywalkers, Piett was realizing. 

Then of course, her Father had been wounded, and she no longer had his visits. So Piett had quite happily taken it on himself to look after her in any way he could, be that reading to her, telling her of the ship’s doings, or merely sitting beside her, working on his reports while she dozed.

“I do know that,” she told him fondly, stroking his arm, “you are tired, dearest Captain. I do wish you would use this time to rest yourself.”

“This is restful,” he told her truthfully. “I have come from your Father as well. He is recovering nicely I am happy to say, though he is eager to be back on deck.”

She laughed. “By which you mean he is a restless lion, pacing around and making everyone else on edge.”

He couldn’t exactly deny this, but this was also his commanding officer, so he merely smiled at her. 

“What has Dr. Henley said in regard to you, my dear?”

She sighed.

“I am to be confined here for two more days, and then perhaps a short journey on deck.”

“I shall see to it personally,” Piett told her, pleased at the prospect. “And by that time I hope to be in port.”

She sat up a little at that.

“What?” she asked, clearly surprised. “But the French fleet….I thought….”

It was Piett’s turn to sigh and run a hand through his hair which was curling ridiculously in the Mediterranean humidity. 

“This illness is sweeping the fleet, my Lady. We are having trouble finding enough healthy men to work. We are putting in at Oran to allow men to recover, and supply ourselves with fresh water and food.”

She bit her lip and stared at him.

“My Father is going against Admiralty directives then. It is serious.”

Trust the Admiral’s daughter to understand the gravity of this fully.

“Yes,” Piett agreed, “but Dr. Henley believes we have a better chance of rapid recovery if we put in rather than stay at sea. I concurred. I think it is better to face the French at full strength.”

She nodded. “How will you find them again?”

He smiled at her, pleased at her intelligent grasp of the situation, and grateful to have someone to discuss this with.

“I am sending a squadron under your brother’s command to patrol for their location. We will have him take those who have already had this illness. We’re preparing for the transfer of crew now.”

“That will be very disruptive to adjust to new crew,” she said soberly, again understanding the burdens here.

“Yes, but necessary. I trust that we can handle that, my dear.”

“Oh I believe you,” she replied, “but I am rather concerned about the toll on our Captain, you see.” She placed a small hand to his cheek. “Those dark circles of his make me wonder about his health.”

He reached up to take her hand in his. “He is a bit sleep deprived, your Ladyship, but I am certain that he can overcome that. It helps to know that people very dear to him are recovering well.”

She gripped his fingers. “Hmmm. He is remarkably stubborn.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed again.

That sound right there was better than any Doctor’s tincture, and he was grateful.

  
  


*****

Piett was correct---Leia was allowed up on deck as they slowly approached the port of Oran. She tied her large bonnet on securely against the bright sun, her maid declaring it  _ belissima _ , before she exited her quarters to find her Captain waiting for her courteously as he had promised. 

They made their way slowly to the quarterdeck where he had arranged for a sling chair, allowing her to rest in the warm, delicious sunlight and watch as they approached the north African coast. 

_ What the people must be thinking _ . Seventeen British ships of war, flying their colors proudly. She saw the signalmen working away to communicate with their counterparts on land---no doubt reassuring them and making their intentions known.

Venka caught her eye and touched his hat respectfully. She felt badly about deceiving him on the Devastator, given the way he had backed up Piett, but knew that she shouldn’t reveal her secret.

She smiled at him warmly and turned her attention to the approaching harbor. It was packed with curious people, and a delegation of some sort seemed to be waiting for them.

Her Father arrived at this juncture, fantastically decked out in his dress uniform, sword and all, with his ribbons and medals. The sling only added to this dazzling and heroic image. She knew what he was doing, and appreciated his representation of the British Empire in this form.

“Drop anchor!” Piett commanded as there was no dock big enough for the Executor. Two thirds of their ships would drop anchor out here and take the boats in the rest of the way. The smaller ships came further in. 

She had rather wanted to join her Father and Piett on this expedition, feeling that a lady’s presence might help ease any perceived threat, but Henley had declared that she was not yet ready, so she was forced to watch their boat approach the shore from here.

The British officers stepped out and there was much bowing all around. Her Father was speaking, gesturing to the fleet. Whatever he said seemed pleasing to the Turkish delegates, and the small group of bright colored uniforms moved away toward some square, clay buildings.

“I don’t like it,” muttered the big Welshman next to her. Leia turned her smile on Baldwin, having a special place in her heart for the man who saw it as his job to keep the Captain safe.

“Mr. Baldwin, they seem very friendly. And the Ottoman Empire is friendly with the British crown.”

“Yes, my Lady, I know, but….”

The Bosun was still put out that he had not joined the landing party.

“Mr. Baldwin, they have Sergeant Ellery and several other marines with them. And all of them are armed. Not to mention seventeen British war ships and all their cannons at their backs.”

The big man broke into a wide grin at that. “Well that’s true, sure enough, your Ladyship. And we’re here as well.”

She laughed at the thought of considering themselves further back up, but she appreciated his feelings.

“We are indeed, Mr. Baldwin. We are indeed.”

No more than an hour had passed when the boat returned to the Executor, and they came bearing gifts.

“It went well then?” Leia asked, greeting her Father and Piett each with a pat to the arm. 

“It went well,” her Father said. “British coin was most welcome, and they are making arrangements for a makeshift hospital for our most ill patients.”   
  


“In the meantime,” her Captain said, motioning to one of the seamen, “they sent this with their compliments to the Lady on board.”   
  


The burly man presented a huge basket to her, filled with glorious fruits, giving off their sweet scents in the African sunshine. 

“Oh,” Leia breathed, taking in deep, appreciative breaths. It was a glorious rainbow of pineapples, bananas, citrus, figs, and dates. “That was very kind. I shall reserve some and see that the rest is given to our sick crew.”   
  


Piett smiled at her. “I expected no less from you, your Ladyship. See to it Mr. Kelly,” he ordered the lieutenant.

The next few days were very busy, but very rewarding. Leia recovered very well and set to work assisting the Doctor once more. Those who were very ill were brought ashore for better access of treatment. The Doctor spent most of his time there, and trusted Leia to oversee the care of those still on the ship. 

Those that were still too sick to rise, she had moved to the upper deck so that fresh air and more light were available. Those that could walk she ordered to the main deck where they could take a daily stroll in the hot sun before returning to rest in their hammocks.

It was extraordinary how fresh food and sunshine helped, Leia reflected peeling yet another orange for the man lying in front of her right next to the cannon. He took it from her gratefully, some of the juice trickling down his chin.

These reflections led her to consider something that Henley had suggested when they spoke several days previously.

Much as Leia might wish it, she could not travel on her Father’s flagship indefinitely. But she dreaded the idea of returning to land and the life of the pampered Lady---she would be caged and frustrated once more.

The Doctor had mentioned that as she was rather adept in nursing, perhaps she should start a hospital---one that utilized these principles of care. Sunshine. Fresh food and water. Good air circulation. Cleanliness.

She had smiled and nodded at first, not really giving it too much thought, but it had taken root. She was perfectly placed to do it. Had plenty of money and influence. She looked around at these men. Leia had received a first hand view of just how hard life was for the crew of a British warship. And what happened when they were wounded so badly they could no longer serve? She had asked this question of Piett who had looked grave.

_ “It is a sorry thing to be sure, my dear,” he had said, as they walked on the deck of the Lady. “Those that are fortunate enough in their means can seek other employment. Those that cannot…..” he trailed off and sighed, and she tightened the hand she had on his arm. “Those that cannot are often beggars in the streets,” he finished. _

_ “That seems a very poor way to repay men who gave their lives and health to the service of our country,” she said hotly. _

_ He patted her hand. “I agree. But I know that look in your eye. You are planning something.” _ _  
  
_

_ She laughed. “I am, dear Captain. Because I am well suited to do something about it.” _

_ “I am exceedingly glad to hear it,” he told her. “Let me know if I can be of assistance in any way.” _

Leia straightened her apron and rose from the deck. A hospital for injured or sick naval personnel. She would see it done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Leia Organa Skywalker. After drawing all these men in uniform (and it's been delightful!!) it was a great pleasure to draw beautiful Leia. :)


	17. The Chase Resumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to sea and Veers is filled in on something, while Luke prepares to bring unwelcome news to his Father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am amused at myself, that when I make Piett happy, I feel happy too. He is genuinely loving the tall ships and I as an author, love this facet of his character and the image of him scrambling happily around his ship is frankly delightful. 
> 
> Thank you all again for indulging me (and him) with this tale. :)

Veers enjoyed the wind on his face once more, though he cursed his weakened muscles. There was much work to be done in getting himself back into shape after this damned illness. Still, he couldn’t feel too put out. They were heading to sea at last, and everyone on board was eager to find the French fleet, none more so than the Admiral and the Captain. 

Both men had been incredibly restless, though Piett hid it better than Lord Vader. Veers agreed with the decision to allow the crews of their fleet to recover, but understood that keen desire to be fulfilling their orders once more. 

He watched as Piett finished barking orders at his crew, and knew his friend well enough to tell that he was enjoying himself immensely. Giving orders for the ship’s workings as opposed to merely sitting idle in harbor, brought a gleam to the Captain’s eye and a spring to his step. His crew felt it too---the Bosun caught Veers' gaze and gave him a brief grin before turning to bawl out some unfortunate young midshipman about an improper knot. 

Piett strode to his side, and rested his hands behind his back as was his way.

“I am very glad to see you up here, Colonel,” he said calmly, but Veers could hear the underlying welcome in his voice. 

Veers remembered bits and pieces of his illness and among them were slim and steady, calloused hands helping him drink, and a measured tenor voice reading to him from….

“Do you have a copy of Shakespeare on board, Captain?” he asked, turning slightly to look down at his friend. 

Piett smiled slightly. “I wasn’t sure if you were completely awake for that to be honest, Veers. But yes, I do.”

The Colonel nodded. “I thought your rendition of the St. Crispin’s day speech was quite good. Always thought Harry had a tenor voice.”

“Really?” Piett inquired mildly, but he was still smiling. “Because I rather think my Marc Antony was fairly convincing.”

“It was good. But your King Harry was better.”

Piett laughed. “You weren’t fully awake. They could both have been terrible.”

Veers shook his head. “You  _ meant  _ the King’s speech. ‘He who sheds his blood with me this day shall be my brother.’ You...I could  _ see  _ you saying that from the quarterdeck.”

He had the great delight of making Piett flush.

“I assure you that’s a compliment, my friend. Thank you,” he continued, turning fully to the Captain and holding out his hand. “For sticking by me and assisting Ellery. Both of you are rocks in your own ways and I’m grateful.”

Piett grasped his hand firmly. “Of course.”

“So,” Veers said, turning back to the view of the blue green waves, “Your crew seems rather happy to be at sea again.”

His friend’s mouth quirked slightly. “They are indeed. I have caught at least fifteen humming under their breath.”

“And their Captain? How does he feel about it?” The Colonel asked knowingly.

Piett chuckled slightly. “He’s bloody well thrilled.”

They stood together for some time, Piett watching his crew and Veers observing Ellery run the marine drills on the main deck. Veers pondered this Captain friend of his. A man who knew and loved Shakespeare enough to have a copy on board. Captain of a first rate who made it his duty to also see to the well being of a friend in his off duty hours. Veers wondered if Piett knew what off duty hours were. 

But he was also a man who kept his feelings very carefully locked down---even with friends. Veers could understand this and relate to it, but he suspected strongly that this was not natural for Piett. It was little things that betrayed him: the way he would reach to pat Scrapland on the shoulder and stop himself. Or the way he would check himself when Veers was sure he had been about to say something, and join in the officer’s conversation at dinner. He was friendly, but he kept himself to ship’s matters and questions to his men about their lives. He was very adept at keeping the conversation from _his_ life and interests.

Veers was curious how many Ozzels Piett had encountered in his life to cause him to so carefully guard a naturally warm, and, dare he say it, affectionate nature. Her Ladyship was capable of bringing this nature out the most, and Veers was curious about this as they seemed like very old friends indeed, when he knew from Piett’s own lips that he had only met the young lady once roughly a year ago.

And here, as he pondered this, the girl came onto deck, clearly on an errand for Henley. She found Piett unerringly with her glance, and smiled one of her dazzling smiles for him. Piett’s face was transformed as well, his heart in his eyes as he touched his hat to her. As though she was his daughter. Veers decided he needed his curiosity satisfied.

“Firmus,” he said, after making sure no one else was nearby, “Have you unofficially adopted her Ladyship and I missed that briefing?”

Piett coughed in surprise and frowned at him. “Max. Of course not. I…..” and he floundered, which was unusual for the Captain. He looked almost nervous now. “It’s just, I had opportunity to work with her and….”

He looked guilty. Veers didn’t have time to do more than raise his eyebrows when Piett sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Join me aft, Colonel,” he said, and immediately moved that direction. 

Veers blinked, but followed, and the two of them watched the wake of the Lady.

“I have been wrestling with myself about whether to tell you or not,” Piett said, determinedly watching the white foam. “I do not like having such a secret between us when we are serving together on this ship, and when you worked with her to help me, risking yourself in the process. And….. you are my friend whom I trust.”

_ Bloody hell what sort of secret? _

The Captain bit his lip and then tightened his jaw. “Veers, her Ladyship was Ensign Naberrie.”

_ Lady Skywalker was….. _

“She disguised herself, and came aboard at Portsmouth. I discovered her true identity when you were all helping me through that concussion. I recognized her….”   
  


Veers recalled that moment well. He understood now the terror in that young face as the ‘ensign’ bent over the fallen Captain. She was afraid for Piett, yes. But she had been terrified of discovery. Had put her hand over Piett’s mouth before he could reveal who she was in his concussed state. 

Piett was watching him as though waiting for a storm. And Veers was tempted to be angry indeed. If any of his men had turned out to be a girl in disguise….He might have desired to toss her overboard. Oh he wouldn't of course. But he would have  _ felt  _ like it. And he thought he could understand how his friend would have reacted here. 

“You couldn’t have Ozzel find out….” he said slowly. “So you agreed to keep her secret. And then she ‘came aboard’ in Sardinia.” Something else clicked for him. “Henley knew didn’t he? He’s a doctor, he must have figured it out.”

Piett nodded. “Yes. I have never been more terrified than when he confronted me…..”

Veers let out a slow breath. “Well. That explains how very strained you were then. Aside from the blight Ozzel of course. And she snuck down to you in the hold….” he shook his head, half admiringly, half stunned. “What a girl. A Skywalker through and through. I beg your pardon. I was wrong---you haven’t adopted her,  _ she  _ has adopted  _ you _ .”

The Captain flushed. “I wouldn’t say that. She has a very big heart….”

“It takes one to recognize that, I would think,” Veers interrupted. “You are ‘her’ Captain. I have heard her say it. Well of course you are. I assume as well that Lord Vader is aware of this?”

“Yes. I informed him after all of you left his quarters that day…”

Veers was impressed once more at Piett’s courage. “You told him after all that…? _Piett_. How did he take it?”

“Didn’t believe it at first. Then wondered if I had helped her do it.”

Veers raised his eyebrows. “You would  _ never… _ ”

Piett smiled slightly. “Thank you, Max, of course not, but the man was rather bowled over, and he didn’t know me all that well yet. He believed me right away when I denied it and explained how I discovered her.”

A beat and Piett broke the silence. 

“I….do hope you can understand why I didn’t say anything to you at the time. I didn’t think you would take it well either, and for her sake….It was absolutely  _ not  _ because I don’t trust you. But most of all, if Ozzel found out that you knew….if we were discovered…”

“Captain,” Veers stopped him with a hand on his arm briefly. “I am somewhat familiar with your sacrificial tendencies at this point. Of course I am not best pleased at the information. But thank the good Lord it was you who found out. I...goodness, I shudder to think what could have happened to her. And thank you for telling me now. I stand by what I said by the way---you are clearly hers. And I do see your face you know. If she was your own daughter you couldn’t be more devoted.”

“That is true,” Piett said quietly. “And….thank you, Max. For….for not doubting me. There have been many times you could have stepped away, quite understandably….”

“Firmus,” Veers made sure to have his eyes, “I don’t know how many times people in your life have ‘stepped away’ but I am not one of them. You are my friend and you are my Captain, in that order. Only death can change that.”

Piett cleared his throat. “All right then, Colonel. Then I suppose it’s both or none going forward. Because I feel the same way.”

They grinned at each other as Venka came over. “Soldier’s wind picking up, sir,” he said with satisfaction, and Veers raised an eyebrow.

“Meaning what exactly, Lieutenant Venka?” he asked. He did not care for the way that the two naval officers smiled at each other.

“It means, Max, that even a soldier could sail the ship with a wind this obliging.”

Venka was not bothering to hide his glee as Piett explained this, and Veers shook his head slightly.    
  


“The bloody navy.”

“Good to have you on board with us, Colonel,” said Piett.

He clapped Veers on the shoulder, and turned to stride back to the quarterdeck. 

And for the first time since Myra and Zev had died, Veers had someone who cared whether he was in this world or not. 

It was a good feeling.

  
  


*******

Luke shook Han’s hand as the other Captain came aboard the Artoona.

“Captain Solo, welcome aboard. We have much to discuss.”

“Oh we do indeed, Captain Skywalker,” the American replied, grinning as Luke motioned for them to head to his cabin. Hobbie and Wedge fell into step behind them.

“How does your ship fare? Are those repairs doing their job?” Luke asked as they ducked inside, and Luke motioned for all of them to sit around his table.

“That and more, I’m happy to say,” Solo responded. “I was personally involved after all.”

Wedge and Hobbie exchanged a look, which the other Captain didn’t miss.

“I see that some in our company doubt my abilities in this area. Let me assure you, gentlemen, I have a great deal of experience when it comes to getting a ship to skip sweetly in the waves. I am of course very happy to instruct should you desire to ask.”

“ _ Thank _ you, Captain Solo,” Wedge responded, his voice dripping with cynicism. 

“Yes, well,” went on Luke hastily, not wanting to get sidetracked into a pointless argument, “We’re here to confer, not discuss ship repair techniques. What do you have for me, Captain?”

“I sighted a fleet of eight ships, heading north by north east of our position. No first rates , but at least two third rates, and a good number of frigates.”

“You don’t know how many?” Hobbie asked acidly.

Solo favored him with a cool brown gaze. “It was too far to get an accurate count. But that is not the most crucial piece of information. I saw at least two flying Spanish colors.”

A moment as they all digested this.

“You are  _ sure _ , Han?” Luke asked as Wedge snorted. 

“You couldn’t tell how many frigates, but you’re sure of the colors?” he pressed.

“All right, Mr. Antilles,” Luke said quellingly.

“I’m sure, Antilles,” the American replied, leaning forward. “I’m not reporting to you anyway, I’m reporting to Captain Skywalker, so you can….”

“Yes, all right, both of you!” Luke insisted. “Listen. We have a common enemy here. Is it possible to maintain some level of professionalism?”

“Sorry, sir,” Wedge said immediately, looking apologetic. Luke was well aware of his first officers feelings on Americans in general, and given that his friend’s father had been killed in the war, he did understand. Nonetheless, Solo hadn’t fired the cannon that did it, and was currently an invaluable resource with a very thorough knowledge of the Mediterranean and good instincts. 

“No hard feelings,” Solo said, holding out a hand. Wedge stared at him.

“I’m not going that far, Captain,” he responded coolly. 

Luke sighed and Solo shrugged. “The point is gentlemen,” Solo continued, “ I think the Spanish may have made a deal under the table, and England is going to wake up to find that the French fleet is riddled with Spanish reinforcements.”

Luke stood and pulled out his map, to roll it across the table, Hobbie helping him weigh it down. 

All of them rose to look at it as Luke considered his options. “Given that we spotted what I am reasonably sure is the main body of the French fleet ourselves, I am of the opinion that Bonaparte is looking to make a move at dominating the western Mediterranean. And if he can do that it will significantly hamper His Majesty's forces. We will have to run supply lines overland and rely on the Channel alone which, as you know, is fraught with risk.”

“Where do you think they are gathering, then?” Solo asked.

Hobbie bent more closely to the map. “I would think that the Spanish ships joining the French are coming out of Barcelona. It makes the most sense given our position as well as the speed with which they have mingled with the Frogs.”:

“Are we sure this a recent development?” Wedge asked, folding his arms and frowning in thought.

“I believe so,” Luke answered.

“What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?” Han asked curiously. 

“Well…..I’m thinking that if we’re right and this is a new alliance, would it not be wise to strike now? Hit them while they are still learning how to work together?”

Hobbie nodded. “And if they are working on mingling their fleets, it makes sense for them to stay closer to the coasts. Marseilles is a reasonable sail from Barcelona. I would think that they would concentrate their efforts in this area between the two ports until they are ready to face us.”

Luke blew out a slight breath. “We are of course still speculating that the Spanish have thrown in their lot with the French.”

A beat, but Luke knew that this decision was on him. 

“All right, “ he said, moving to his cabinet and pulling out a bottle of brandy. “Captain Solo, you will continue to scout the movement of the French fleet. I will send the Lancer to follow the movements of the main body. The rest of us will rejoin Admiral Vader where I will make my report to him and propose our plan.”

He poured a tumbler for each man. 

“The King!” he said first and they drank. 

Solo didn’t repeat this with them, but he nodded courteously before drinking with them. 

“And to the downfall of Bonaparte! May he soon wish he had never challenged the might of the British Navy!”

“Here, here!” agreed Hobbie emphatically as they all clinked tumblers and drank again.

“Then Godspeed gentlemen,” Luke said. “I hope to see you again soon, Captain Solo.”

The American gave him a jaunty salute. “You will, Captain. It’s me!”

Wedge sighed.

  
  


*****

Anakin stretched his arm experimentally, Henley having just allowed him out of the sling and declaring he could start building his strength again.

It was weak and sore to be sure, but resuming the freedom of movement was more than worth it. He donned his blue coat as his servant waited with his hat. Anakin made sure his hair was neatly tied at his neck and then retrieved his hat and set it firmly on his head.

All was right with his world. 

Well. Nearly.

He had the French fleet to track down and destroy, and a daughter to get safely back on English shores. Aside from that however….

He came up on deck into the sun and a fresh breeze. It was as though the Lady herself welcomed him--her sails filled nicely with the friendly wind and all her masts straight and proud. The British ensign snapped smartly in its red and blue glory and Anakin took in a deep breath as he raked the deck with his eyes. 

_ Where was Piett? _

He could see Venka striding on the larboard side of the main deck unconcernedly. The Bosun was working on a line with his mate up near the foc'sle. All was as it ought to be except that Anakin was missing a Captain.

This was not like Piett, but no one seemed overly concerned. He looked back around and noticed that Kelly and Scrapland seemed to have their attention on something in the rigging on the mizzen mast. Baldwin (ever Anakin’s invaluable resource when it came to Piett ) caught his eye, touched his forehead respectfully, and inclined his head toward the mizzenmast.

Anakin looked up and it took him a moment to realize that he had found his errant Captain who was balanced confidently in the upper shrouds listening as two of the topmen explained something. 

_ Well, bloody, well.  _

“He has always liked to understand a concept best by inspecting it himself, my Lord,” said Venka who had materialized at his elbow while he watched Piett. “At least in the time I have served with him, and I would imagine this was his habit long before that as well.”

Anakin smiled slightly. 

“Has he ever made it up to the topgallant then?”

“I do not know, my Lord,” the first lieutenant responded, returning the smile. “You might ask him. I am curious as well.”

“As you were!” roared the Bosun down on the main deck and numerous seamen jumped to obey, having been caught gawking at their Captain as Piett made his way back down. Anakin envied him the ease with which he descended, as he was reasonably certain he would not be that graceful were he to attempt it. 

“My Lord,” said Piett, tugging on his jacket edges as he made his way hastily up to the quarterdeck. “My apologies for not being here when you arrived.”

“No apology necessary, Captain,” Anakin said. “But I must admit that I am curious to know what you were inspecting so closely up there.”

“One of the topmen, Philips, was rather certain we needed to reinforce the crosstrees on the mizzen mast after our last encounter. I wished to know why it had not been noted while we were still in port at Oran where it would have been easier to fix. Apparently, my Lord, the damage was not noted until that strong wind we had two days ago. I can see the issue and it is understandable why it was not seen earlier.”

“So you were deciding whether or not you needed to ream out some of our crew,” Anakin told him raising an eyebrow.

“Quite so, my Lord,” Piett answered seriously. “I would not wish to be unjust. But that could have been very bad indeed. They should be starting work on it right away.”

“I would not wish to be unjust to my crew either, Piett,” Anakin stated, “but I do not think I would ascend the rigging to ascertain it.”

His Captain looked slightly uncertain. “Would you prefer I did not do so, my Lord?”

Anakin chuckled. “I have no trouble with you doing so other than hoping I do not lose my Captain in a fall. I think you have just risen rather significantly in the estimation of the men.”

Piett coughed a little uncomfortably. “That was not my intention, sir. I just prefer to see…..”

“Yes, yes, I am aware. Mr. Venka has filled me in,” Anakin interrupted, waving a hand. Piett shot his lieutenant a look. 

“And both of us wish to know, Piett,” Anakin continued, smiling now, “have you ever reached the topgallant?”

The Captain looked from one to the other of them and placed his hands behind his back.

“You are having fun, my Lord.”

“It is amusing admittedly, Piett, but I admire you as well. I cannot think of another Captain at the moment, with perhaps the exception of my son, who would do such a thing. I really want to know.”

“I did so once,” Piett replied with dignity. 

“Sir,” said Venka, “perhaps you missed your calling as a topman.”

Piett raised an eyebrow at him. “Perhaps I should send you up next time, Tom.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant replied smartly, eyes dancing. “I shall follow any order you give me, Captain.”

“That is well,” Piett stated, every inch the British Captain, “since you are duty bound to do so.”

Anakin grinned and reflected that there were some members of the peerage who thought themselves privileged to meander around their estates and society.

Give him the open sea, a tall ship, and men like these to serve with any day. 

“Sail ho!” came a call, and the three of them had their telescopes out immediately. “North by northeast!”

Anakin scanned the area.

“If I’m not mistaken, sir, that’s one of ours,” Piett commented next to him. 

“This was confirmed a moment later from the topmast.

“British colors, sir!”

Anakin waited, watching it approach, and hoping it was who he suspected. 

“Three more sails!”

But he recognized Artoona’s lines now. 

Luke was back. 

  
  



	18. Beat To Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admiral Lord Vader and his crew engage the French fleet. The cost is high.

The drums.

Always that was how an engagement began, but Venka felt there was something more solemn and weighty in their beat today.

He watched the sticks move upon the taut skin and it was almost as if time slowed. 

The hands of the drummers.

The sound of bare feet slapping against wooden boards.

The gun captains yelling at their crews.

The metallic roll of the cannon, opening their mouths toward the enemy.

The snap of the wind in the big sails.

The red splash of color from the coats of the marines.

The enemy had been spotted indeed, and as Commander Skywalker had reported, the Spanish had joined with the French fleet. It was a mighty force. Thus far they had counted 32 ships, and currently they had 26.

His young lordship was convinced that the American captain would rejoin them to provide assistance with his small fleet of three ships, but even if he did, Venka was not certain that it would turn the tide.

Venka watched the crew with a close eye as they ran about, readying the slow fuses and carefully placing them in buckets, securing cables and lines and then there was that stillness.

The calm before the storm.

He had time today for some reason to really look at the faces of the men lining the decks. Some grizzled and experienced, others barely old enough to be on the ship. From the boys to the Admiral the Executor waited with tense expectation to see if their gamble would pay off. 

Their approach was all Piett’s idea.

_ “It is most likely they are moving east, my Lord,” he’d said, placing the little wooden ships that Lord Vader used when explaining a battle plan across the big map on the Admiral's dining table. “If that is the case, they will of course be spread out. Most certainly they have a superior force, given the reports we have compiled.” _

_ Lord Vader had nodded, arms folded across his chest. _

_ “The winds don’t look to change anytime soon though, Captain. They have the advantage there since we are approaching from the South.” _

_ “Agreed sir, but there is nothing we can do about that. So we must operate without the element of speed. We need to do something else since we cannot head them off and out run them from this approach.” _

_ He placed four ships in two lines, creating a ‘t’ shape with the little models. _

_ Venka drew in a breath. “But sir….with respect they have all the advantage in this maneuver. Their broadsides can pummel us before we get a shot off.” _

_ “I know, Tom,” Piett told him, meeting him with earnest eyes, jacket discarded and white sleeves rolled over his elbows as he bent to the task at hand. “And the leading ships are going to take that pummeling. Which is why it needs to be Executor and Triumph at the front. We are most able to take it. Once they have fired the initial broadsides they have to reload. As they do so, we will make our best way forward, allowing the brigs to dart in and unleash return fire.” _

_ “And then….” Piett straightened and looked his Admiral dead in the eye. “Then it is the turn of the Lady and the Triumph to answer the enemy with our own broadsides.” _

_ “And if we are successful,” put in Triumph’s captain, “we will have cut their fleet into three parts.” _

_ “Yes,” said the younger Skywalker. “And while the bigger ships maneuver to cause the most maximum damage in the center, we smaller ships can herd the divided sections, much like sheep dogs, only we’re not here to protect them.” _

_ “Precisely,” Piett smiled at him, then broke suddenly into a heavy cough. _

_ Lord Vader frowned. “Captain…” _ _  
  
_

_ “Apologies, my Lord, I fear I have that cold you took.” _

_ Veers had raked an assessing eye over his friend, but Venka could see that his Captain was going to see this through and no troublesome cold was going to get in his way. His jaw had that particular set to it. _

_ “All right then. We need to put the rest of our ships in order for our lines,” said the Admiral, as Piett rolled his sleeves back down and found his jacket once more. "And Godspeed, gentlemen." _

Venka watched the Captain now as he stood by the Admiral on the quarterdeck, telescope trained on the French and Spanish ships. His sword gleamed on his hip and his pistol was tucked on the other side. Piett intended to take prizes in this conflict. He was not a Captain to send crews in his place unless he absolutely had to. 

Young Scrapland was quivering with nervous energy at Venka’s side, his own pistol tucked into his belt and his dirk ready.

His eyes darted to the gun crew that he was overseeing and back up to the Captain, the hero worship glowing rather apparently even now.

“Keep your attention to your task, Mr. Scrapland,” Venka told him seriously. “The Captain won’t thank you for watching him when you are to attend your duties.”   
  


The boy blushed. “Yes, sir, sorry sir.”

Piett coughed rackingly and reached to grip the rail beside him with white knuckles. Venka cursed internally. 

_ Of all the times for the Captain to catch a cold. _ And Piett was stubborn--Veers had already tried to carefully coax him into resting as much as possible without any success, the last several days. There was a mission to complete--admittedly a mission of grave importance---and Piett would kill himself to see it to the end. 

Would he do any different? Venka wondered, already knowing he wouldn’t. Still, even Lord Vader was looking concerned and was saying something to his much shorter officer.

Piett shook his head vehemently and straightened, and Venka didn’t need to hear them to know what was said.

The Captain would see this through.

*******

Luke waited tensely on the quarterdeck as they approached the bigger fleet. His signalmen were training their telescopes on Executor, waiting for his Father’s signal. 

“Full sail, sir!”

Luke didn’t even pause, whipping to face Wedge.

“Hands to braces! Full sail!”

“Aye, Captain!”   
  


Artoona leapt forward, eager to join the fight. And fight it would be. Their section of the line was facing five swift sloops as well as some frigates the size of Artoona. They were just as swift and more heavily armed. 

A Spanish sloop of war opened fire on the Dartmouth and whether by luck or skill (for it was a fair distance) shattered her main mast into firewood. And quite suddenly, Luke was in real danger of being surrounded, as he lost the ship to starboard. Polaris and Rogue were still catching up.

_ Damn it. _

He would not allow this line of battle to be the one that failed. 

“Head for the biggest sloop!” he called. “Target her midships.”

He had to hope the surprise of such a reckless move would buy him time to slip out of the noose that was slowly closing on him. 

For a moment this seemed to be the case, but then….

“French brig closing fast off the larboard stern sir!!”

Well blast it to hell. His maneuver could get them caught in a pincer.

“She’s running out her guns!”

He exchanged a grim glance with Wedge. This was going to cost them heavily.

“Get ready to clear the decks of wounded,” Luke told him, and his first officer turned….

“It’s the Falcon! The Falcon is heading her off!”

Luke and Wedge moved as one to get a better view as the battered ship flew between the Artoona and the brig. She may have seen better days, but her lines were built for speed and she swooped between just as the brig opened fire.

“You insane American bastard,” Wedge breathed reverently as the Falcon reeled from the attack. But she answered a moment later, her larboard guns booming their defiance at the French vessel and causing crippling damage to her bow.

This brave move gave Polaris and Rogue the time needed to rejoin Luke and suddenly the sloop before them began to move away, realizing that the three of them were heading for her.

But she was moving too late and they had the wind advantage now. 

Luke waited……

“Fire as you bear!” he called and Artoona’s broadside shot out. He watched with a rising fierce joy as the mizzen mast of the Spanish ship slowly toppled over.

“You bloody brilliant lubbers!” Hobbie was yelling in his exhilaration to the gunners.

“Mr. Klivian, a little more dignity if you please,” Luke instructed, but he was having a hard time keeping a grin off of his own face and Hobbie knew it. 

“Boats approaching!” yelled the coxswain and Wedge moved to look. 

“From the Falcon, Captain,” he called back. “She’s crippled. I can see Captain Solo!”   
  


“Get them aboard!” Luke ordered. “Signal Polaris to stay on our starboard stern. I want to herd these sloops toward the Triumph.”

Moments later he heard a familiar American voice.

“....do you mean she’s a wreck? She’s still floating isn’t she?” We’ll fix her up again, don’t count the Falcon out. In the meantime, I don’t intend to miss this fight.”   
  


Luke smiled broadly and jumped the last step down to the main deck.

“Han,” he said gripping the man’s forearms. “I can’t thank you enough.”   
  


“Well, I thought if you were going to pull a crazy American sort of stunt, the least I could do was pull one as well to help you out.”

“Solo,” came Wedge’s clipped tones and Luke looked over at him. 

“You are utterly insane. But you also saved us without doubt.” 

His first lieutenant held out a hand and Han grasped it.

“I thought we weren’t going this far,” he told the other man, a twinkle in his eye.

“I can allow one handshake, Captain. It does not mean we are on friendly terms,” Wedge replied with dignity. 

Luke and Han looked at him.

“I am not friends with a Yank,” Wedge insisted.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Han replied with a snort. “This Yank is friends with  _ you _ . Now let’s go and destroy some Frogs.”

  
  


******

Piett felt as though large iron hands were squeezing his lungs. It really wasn’t fair. He had been sure he would escape that damned cold but apparently Fate had other ideas.

_ Perhaps he could sneeze the French into submission. _

He watched the line as they drew closer. Outnumbered indeed. But….wait. What was the commanding Admiral thinking? Their reports suggested that Breussard was the one commanding this combined fleet. And from what Piett knew of the discipline in both the Spanish and French naval forces, his job was cut out for him. Perhaps that was what he was seeing at the moment.

“My Lord,” he said, getting the attention of the Admiral, “Does it look to you as though they are backing?”

Lord Vader whipped his telescope up to his eye.

“Good Lord. What is the man thinking? He’s wasting his advantage.”

Indeed the fleet was scattered over roughly five miles of ocean. Cutting into it would be much simpler than Piett had initially allowed himself to hope. It was still a high risk operation. He was depending on his highly disciplined crews to outmaneuver, outgun, and outlast the enemy, once they had divided them.

“Yes, sir. I wonder if he is trying to change his mind and group his ships closer together.”

“It appears so.”

“Sir, shall I order full sail? I don’t want to waste our opportunity.”   
  


His Lordship did not hesitate. “Signal the fleet. Full sail.”

“Full sail!” yelled Piett. “Signal the fleet!”

And his lungs tried to rip themselves apart again. He felt a steadying hand on his back.

“Piett. It would perhaps be better if you were to delegate the boarding party….”

_ To have all of them go without him? Veers? Venka? Baldwin? _

“No sir. It’s just a cold, sir.”

The Lady responded to the extra sail and pushed forward eagerly. She was keen to do battle and Piett would be right with her.

And here at last, the moment was upon them.

Across the way he saw Triumph leading her own column and the two first rates prepared for action as they approached the French and Spanish ships. He caught Veers’ eye and the Colonel touched his hat. Piett returned the gesture, praying he had an opportunity to fight beside his friend this day. 

The French ships spat forth their defiance, much of the broadside falling short, but a few hit Executor.

“Far too early,” commented his Lordship beside him and Piett nodded. They had received no casualties and exceedingly minor damage, while the Frenchman would now have to reload. 

“Over eager, my Lord,” Piett said, training his telescope once again toward the French ship, where he could see the frantic activity of the gun crews.

“And we will use that to our advantage, Captain. Engage with the Bonhomme. We will show them a little English discipline.”

“Aye, sir. Hard starboard, close with Bohomme!” Piett commanded and the helmsman spun the wheel obediently, the sailors in rigging adjusted the sails accordingly, and the Lady turned in her ponderous grandeur to make for the French second rate with ominous purpose. 

Piett watched closely, heart thundering now. This was the point that they needed to establish. He needed to cripple the ships in the center to allow them to properly cut the lines and sow chaos amongst the enemy fleet. 

Lord Vader was scanning the situation with the Triumph as she bore down on the other side. Piett waited and he could feel the gunners, their tension tight as an arrow to the string. 

Wait for it…...

“Fire as you bear!” he ordered, and Venka was passing on the order and then Executor answered the earlier attack with far greater accuracy.

Piett was pleased that none of his men wasted any time cheering or such nonsense. Immediately the guns were drawn back in to be cleared and reloaded while the Bonhomme reeled in her distress, significant portions of her mid ships shot away and the foremast a shattered mess. 

“Bring us about!” Piett called, sighting down his telescope for the target he had thought he glimpsed and….yes.

_ The elusive Marseille.  _

The first rate French ship looked to bearing down upon several of their frigates as they closed with the line further to larboard.

And Piett had spotted the Admiral’s standard flying there.

“My Lord….” he began, but Vader was already ahead of him.

“Engage her, Captain, we have a score to settle indeed.”

Piett felt a small thrill of joy shoot through his breast---to be working so very in tune with his Admiral was richly satisfying to his soul. Once again, he felt that they could face Napoleon himself, so confident was he in Lord Vader’s leadership. 

“Close haul if you please, Mr. Venka!” Piett shouted and Venka’s eager ‘aye sir’ in return told him that his first lieutenant was just as keen to reach the flagship.

The British gun crews had their charges reloaded and run out in thunderous anticipation, and then the wind caught them and he felt the Lady surge beneath his feet as though she too were eager to wreak retribution upon her enemies. 

Closer, closer…... and the French broadside fired into Executor. Piett ducked low next to the Admiral as shrapnel whizzed overhead with the same deadly force as a volley of arrows. He could hear the screams of their wounded and knew it had been a good hit, but the Executor was moving swiftly now and there was no stopping her.

“Fire!” Piett called, straightening once more and all three decks responded with their rolling broadside. 

The main mast toppled to the deck of the Marseilles, but Piett did not take any time to celebrate that as the Lady came alongside the other first rate with bruising force, shaking them all as she locked yardarms with her enemy as though seeking to wrestle the other ship under the waves herself. 

Veers was giving orders and the marines picked their targets well amongst the French gunners. Piett drew his sword.

“Boarding parties!” he called and the men formed up with him. He glanced to Venka first and Tom gave him a little grin.

He shot a look at Veers on his other side who inclined his head. “Ready on your orders, Captain.”

Piett watched as his men threw grappling hooks, trapping their prey next to them.

“For the Lady!” he called, and they scrambled across.

This was the thing Piett hated most---crossing two ships rolling together. He had no trouble with heights, but this, this tumble of mighty hulls froze his heart. A slip and one could be a red smear on the wood or pressed beneath the waves, unable to come up.

But they all made it across, and now the close battle was at hand.

Piett and his crew were fighting toward the helmsman and the quarterdeck. Veers was attacking midships and Venka was for’ard with his party. 

The Captain was vaguely aware of the Bosun on his left and Scrapland on his right as they thrust their way through the haze and mess of the Marseilles’ main deck. And then his focus narrowed to the focus of close combat.

_ A swearing French sailor in his face, and Piett thrust him through. _

_ A stumble as he slid on blood and debris. _

_ The Bosun, roaring at his side and reminding him of nothing so much as a maddened bull.  _

_ Sweat on his face, and it was so hot he was sure there must be a fire. _

_ His own face, fixed in some hideous grimace as he fought with arms that were increasingly weary…. _

And then the choked scream that broke through this battle perception. 

Piett whirled, shoving the enemy lieutenant so hard the man tipped overboard as the Bosun used a musket like a club, clearing space for his Captain to kneel by Scrapland’s quivering body as the boy clawed in agony at the wound to his gut.

And Piett knew. He’d seen it before.

_ Why Matthew? _ He thought in anguish as he lifted the boy’s head and brought his focus to his Captain. Not even a man---so  _ eager  _ to prove himself….

“Captain,” the young midshipman groaned, “Captain,  _ please… _ .”

And Piett could do nothing but hold him as the Bosun was an avenging fury above him.

“You’ll be alright,” he lied, dashing the sweat from his eyes, because it wasn’t tears, it  _ wasn’t _ . “You were brilliant, Matthew.”

Scrapland coughed, dark blood now at his lips. “Sir….oh. It…..it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“That’s good then, isn’t it, Mr. Scrapland?” Piett said, smoothing the boy’s hair away from his dirty face and those eyes found his.

“Yes, sir. I think….I think I could get up now.”

Piett held him. “Not yet, Matthew. Give it a moment.”

This young man would be dead in a moment.

“All right. Sir? You….you don’t call me Matthew that often….”

“True. But I’m rather fond of you, so….” he forced a smile down at the boy whose face glowed at that.

“Well, that’s….I’m fond of  _ you… _ ..s--….”

And those green eyes were fixed at the sky above them. Piett didn’t have time to mourn. A battle still raged around him, and he leapt to his feet like a lion whose cub had been killed, and flung himself at the nearest French uniform he could see. 

He lost himself in a red haze, coming to the surface only when Baldwin gripped his arm, and got his craggy face before his Captain’s eyes. “Sir. Sir!”

“Yes, Mr. Baldwin?” he panted. 

“Mr. Venka’s been wounded Captain, Colonel Veers is defending him sir, but we need reinforcements!”

Piett dashed the sweat out of his eyes, running a swift eye around the deck. Marseilles shook as the lower guns of the Lady emptied themselves below decks.

“I need to find the Admiral,” Piett told the Bosun. “I shall require his surrender.”

Baldwin looked at him. “Sir….”

“You are correct, Mr. Baldwin, send Mr. Davis over immediately to get reinforcements….”   
  


“Did I hear you needed reinforcements ? Because I’m here!”

Those were American tones and Piett turned to see that Artoona had wedged herself against the other side of the Marseilles, and not only had Captain Solo scrambled up, Commander Skywalker and some of his officers were joining him.

“Belay that, Mr. Baldwin,” Piett ordered, smiling widely. “Captain Solo, secure the main deck. Commander Skywalker with me and the Bosun!”

He followed Baldwin to where Venka lay against the abandoned wheel, and Ellery was kneeling to bind his thigh while Veers fought fiercely next to them. The Bosun roared his challenge, and the startled French realized too late that help had arrived for the British officers as the three of them sprinted up the ladder and laid into the enemy. 

At one point the Captain found himself quite literally back to back with the Colonel, and the joy of warriors together raced through his veins.

It was over quickly, Skywalker disarming their opponents and Piett smiled at Veers, delighted to have been able to actually fight at his friend’s side.

He had his back to the cabins behind them, and thus did not see the pistol, but he heard the crack and saw the results as Veers went down, and he whipped around to encounter the French Admiral, making a desperate last stand with roughly five crew behind him, charging the British officers. He was a big man and his first blow had Piett seeing stars as he was thrown over the body of his friend.

_ No _ , he thought.  _ This was not how it ended. _

The Admiral swung his sword down at him, and Piett managed at last to wrestle his pistol from his belt and fire, dropping his opponent to the deck as Skywalker and the Bosun fought ferociously behind him.

Piett spat blood and staggered to his feet, pointing his sword at the downed Frenchman, who was clutching his shoulder and swearing fervently in his native tongue.

“Abandonnez, Amiral,” Piett told the man coldly, staring into his eyes with dreadful purpose. Veers might lie dead behind him and Piett was sorely tempted to forgo the rules of combat, but knew he would not.

The Admiral dropped his eyes and his sword, carefully holding his hands away from his body. Piett kicked the sword away and motioned with the point of his own saber for the man to get up and move toward the side. He bent to retrieve the Admiral’s sword and was seized with an awful coughing fit.

“Sir?” asked the Bosun, coming to his side.

“Secure……” Piett wheezed, “Secure the Admiral,” he managed, drawing breaths which were stabbing his lungs with steel knives. 

“I have him, Captain,” Skywalker replied, standing near the Frenchman, with his sword in hand.

“ Ordonnez à vos hommes de cesser de se battre,” Piett commanded, and the man obeyed, whether because Skywalker was right next to him with his sword or because Piett’s face was set in cold rage. 

The Frenchmen looked around at their Admiral’s command to surrender, and the British seamen pressed this advantage, disarming their prisoners. 

The ship was theirs.

*****

Baldwin accepted Piett’s sword as the Captain turned to kneel by the Colonel, the fighting demon gone, and the friend very present. 

“ _ Veers _ . Colonel,” he tried, reaching for the marine’s still body and only Baldwin saw his hand tremble.

“Commander Skywalker, have Captain Solo secure the prisoners in the hold. You will take charge of the Admiral and bring him to your Father.” He coughed terribly once more.

“Aye, sir,” replied his young Lordship, casting a brief troubled blue gaze at Baldwin.

_ He hadn’t liked Piett’s cough either then, but understood his duty.  _

The Captain was feeling for the Colonel’s pulse and Baldwin looked at the still face of the stern man, half of it coated in blood. Shot to the head then, and the Bosun waited, determined to be there for Piett no matter what life threw at his Captain.

“ _ Max _ ,” Piett breathed, and the Welshman realized that the Colonel’s eyelids were moving, and then he was staring up at Piett.

“No, don’t move, I need to determine how badly you’re hit,” the Captain declared, moving his hands carefully over the marine.

“It’s a graze, Firmus. No need for  _ fuss _ , man.”

Baldwin heard Piett huff at him. “I would hardly say I am  _ fussing _ , Veers. You should see the ghastly spectacle you are making at the moment.”

“A hideous object indeed,” agreed Mr. Venka whom Baldwin had almost forgotten in the melee. He sat propped up against the wheel, holding his hand to the stained bandage on his thigh, looking strained but satisfied. Standing tall over him, Ellery was also a picture of relief.

Veers lifted a hand to his head, over Piett’s protest to probe his wound. “I can feel the groove. It’s not that deep, Piett. Help me sit. Please.”

The Captain obeyed, panting at the effort, but Veers made it to lean forward over his knees as Piett pressed his handkerchief to the wound.

Piett turned his head away to explode in a new coughing fit, one which sent him to hands and knees and immediately had the Colonel reaching for him, while Venka watched with concerned, pain filled eyes.

But it was the Bosun who got to him first.

“Mr…..Baldwin…” Piett gasped, “can’t….breathe….”

The Bosun got behind him, not really sure what to do except pound his back in an effort to help his lungs expel whatever was causing this problem. 

Piett coughed once more, violently, and blood hit the deck. 

“ _ Firmus _ ,” Veers hissed, and the Bosun understood the dread in his voice. Coughing up blood could be very dire indeed…..

Piett finally drew in a whooping breath and sagged against Baldwin, who was swift to hold him up.

“Just….bad cold…” the Captain managed, but the Bosun met Mr. Venka’s eyes.

He placed a calloused hand to the forehead of his Captain and was stunned at the heat.

“Sir. This is more than a mere chill. You’re burning.”

Piett struggled to make it to his feet, and Baldwin was right with him.

_ You may be stubborn, sir, but I’m going to have your back every time. _

“We need to get the wounded back to the Lady,” Piett started, then swayed, and Baldwin saw the moment his eyes rolled back--- had expected it really. Thus, he was right there, as he ought to be, to catch him as he dropped. He lifted the smaller man into his arms, before looking to the first lieutenant for orders.

“Take him first, Mr. Baldwin,” Venka said, acknowledging that command was on his shoulders at the moment. “Send men back for our wounded. I can command sitting down. Ah, perfect timing.”

The American had emerged and was taking stock of the situation.

“Solo,” called Venka. “I shall need your assistance organizing things here. The Captain is ill as you can see.”

“I can take him sir, if you…”

“I have the Captain,” the Bosun declared, feeling fiercely possessive, and tightening his arms around the slight frame. How was it they didn’t notice just how small Piett was when he commanded? He was a mere few inches taller than her Ladyship, but somehow one forgot that when in his presence. 

“All right,” Solo put his hands up in surrender. “Give me orders, Mr. Venka and I can see it done.”

Venka began to do so and Veers spoke to the Bosun.

“Mr. Baldwin.”

He half turned, meeting the Colonel’s openly worried gaze. He could see the man wrestling with what to say.

“Please take great care, Bosun,” he settled on at last, and the Welshman could hear the poorly concealed affection and concern.

“Yes, sir. The very greatest.”

He made his way to the makeshift gangplank that had been rigged between the two ships and was across it in two shakes of a pig’s tail, his hold on Piett secure. The Bosun had been too long at sea to let a little thing like crossing ships trouble him.

He set foot on deck and was pleased to note immediately that all of the Lady’s masts were intact, which in such close action as this, was a minor miracle. She had taken some severe damage midships, but it could be repaired.

However, there were more important matters, because severe damage had been done to the Captain of the first rate as well, and he met Admiral Lord Vader’s eye as he spotted him from the quarterdeck and came hurrying down.

“Mr. Baldwin. Where was he hit?”

“Not hit, sir, I’m glad to say. But he collapsed, my Lord once we secured the Marseilles. Sir….he was coughing blood.”

He found himself drawing Piett closer to his chest as he said this, as though he could ward off any illness that threatened his Captain. 

The Bosun could see that Lord Vader understood the gravity of that immediately.

“Take him to his cabin, Mr. Baldwin. Send a boy for the Doctor as soon as he is able. Stay with him, until he comes. If you do not feel you are able to look after him…..”

And Baldwin surprised himself with his own boldness to interrupt his Lordship. 

“ _ Sir _ . I am more than capable of looking after my Captain.” He did his level best to keep his voice free from reproof, but was not sure he was successful when his Lordship smiled gravely.

“Thank you, Bosun.”

“And sir, Mr. Venka has requested transfer of the wounded over to the Lady.”

“I shall see to it. Dismissed.”

“Aye, sir.”

Baldwin moved to Piett’s quarters as quickly as he could. 

And here, in this situation, his Captain’s small build was a benefit. It was easy for Baldwin to divest him of jacket, shoes and waistcoat. He waited on the rest, because Piett was shivering now as the fever gripped him. Baldwin bundled him in his blankets and laid him in his bunk--a bed really--but as it was built into the cabin, the term would suit.

He laid the Captain’s sword on the window bench in his day cabin and returned, to check his pulse. It was rapid and his skin was hot to the touch. Even as the Bosun watched a flush was creeping up Piett’s cheeks. He passed the word for water and hunted for a towel which happily he found laid across the washstand.

He pulled a chair up to the bed and wrung the towel out to gently wipe the other man’s feverish countenance.

Many years ago now, he had done this for his little boy, as he slowly lost his battle with typhus. The motions were familiar as were the words he was unconsciously murmuring.

“There. It will be all right now, sir, you’ll see. I’m here, sir, I’ve got you. You stay here with us, Captain. I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -'Surrender Admiral'
> 
> -'order your men to stop fighting'


	19. The Valley of the Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the heels of great victory, another battle is waged.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admiral Death  
> By Sir Henry Newbolt
> 
> Boys, are ye calling a toast to-night?  
> (Hear what the sea-wind saith)  
> Fill for a bumper strong and bright,  
> And here's to Admiral Death!  
> He's sailed in a hundred builds o' boat,  
> He's fought in a thousand kinds o' coat,  
> He's the senior flag of all that float,  
> And his name's Admiral Death!
> 
> Which of you looks for a service free?  
> (Hear what the sea-wind saith)  
> The rules o' the service are but three  
> When ye sail with Admiral Death.  
> Steady your hand in time o' squalls,  
> Stand to the last by him that falls,  
> And answer clear to the voice that calls,  
> 'Ay, Ay! Admiral Death!'
> 
> How will ye know him among the rest?  
> (Hear what the sea-wind saith)  
> By the glint o' the stars that cover his breast  
> Ye may find Admiral Death.  
> By the forehead grim with an ancient scar,  
> By the voice that rolls like thunder far,  
> By the tenderest eyes of all that are,  
> Ye may know Admiral Death.
> 
> Where are the lads that sailed before?  
> (Hear what the sea-wind saith)  
> Their bones are white by many a shore,  
> They sleep with Admiral Death.  
> Oh! but they loved him, young and old,  
> For he left the laggard, and took the bold,  
> And the fight was fought, and the story's told,  
> And they sleep with Admiral Death.

For a ship the size of the Lady, with nearly nine hundred crew, it was very quiet. 

Veers hated it. The silence was oppressive and gave him far too much time to wander in his head. His head which was sore but intact, now that seven stitches were in place and he wore a bandage under his hat. 

His men were helping to repair damages for the most part, though some were skilled enough to help Henley and his mates as they tended the wounded. 

And the sick.

Veers gazed out over the convoy as they sailed for the straights of Gibraltar. It had been three days since the mighty battle and when the chaos ceased and the guns had fallen silent, England had won the day.

But at cost.

On the Lady alone, 93 men were dead, among them Scrapland and Kelly. 32 were wounded, and of those, Henley did not expect three of them to survive. Eight amputations, and Veers had personally witnessed her Ladyship run to the side to vomit before straightening once more and returning to her work. 

That girl was a Skywalker to the core and he held high regard for her. More so now. Once the serious operations were complete, and she had changed out of her bloodied clothing and apron, she was immediately at Piett’s side, and there she raised her standard, not to be moved. 

She had been convinced eventually to rest in her quarters, but would only give up her station to Veers or Baldwin. Henley checked in regularly, but as he was much needed with the wounded, and there was not a great deal he could do for the Captain that her Ladyship couldn’t, he proclaimed her in charge of the battle.

And battle it would be.

Veers tightened his jaw, recalling Henley’s initial diagnosis.

_ “You shouldn’t be here, Colonel, I know for a fact you just came from Anderson placing those stitches.” _

_ Veers glared. “Do not test me now, Doctor.” _

_ Henley growled but he was more concerned with his patient as he felt Piett’s head, checked his eyes and throat, and listened to his lungs. _

_ Baldwin had dexterously changed Piett out of his uniform and into his nightshirt while her Ladyship had brought in a heavy wool blanket for the Captain when the chills struck.  _

_ The Bosun was now back on deck, helping to bring order back to the ship, while Veers and the girl waited anxiously for Henley’s pronouncement in Piett’s sleeping quarters. _

_ “Bloody, bloody hell. This is why you come to me when you are ill! Damn and blast you, Captain, you stubborn bastard…” _

_ “Doctor,” stated Veers, reminding him of her Ladyship’s presence. She was supremely unbothered by his language and, Veers reflected, had no doubt heard worse while working with him in her disguise. _

_ “Apologies, your Ladyship. I…” he sighed suddenly, placing Piett’s arm back down to the coverlet with surprising gentleness after checking his pulse. _

_ “I am not perturbed, Doctor, please, what is it? I beg you tell us,” the girl pleaded, retrieving the hand Henley had released and seating herself in the chair by Piett’s head.  _

_ Henley looked between them and Veers steeled himself.  _

_ “It’s not typhus, thank the good Lord,” the Doctor said, and Veers had released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.  _

_ “But it is likely pneumonia in that case. Both lungs are a mess. One of the worst cases I’ve heard.” _

_ The girl flinched slightly at this, then rallied. _

_ “All right, Doctor, what must be done? I shall see to it.” _ _  
  
_

_ Veers hadn’t realized that the Doctor could look fondly at any one and had that shock. _

_ “My Lady, I know that you will. However, you both need to know from the outset….” he paused, looking pained. “I do not hold out great hope for his recovery.” _

_ Veers felt hollowed out. _

_ “Surely, Doctor, we can…” _

_ “Even on land, in hospital, I would have doubts. Here….well. Of course we shall not give up.” _

_ “Certainly not,” declared her Ladyship, tightening her grip on the Captain’s hand. _

Veers glanced up to the helmsman and then to Lord Vader who stood nearby. The man was as stoic as Veers himself, but he caught the gaze and inclined his head slightly. 

Of course he felt the mood too. And it was difficult because they should feel jubilant. The evidence of their success was sailing with them. Five prizes to take back to England, among them the Marseilles, captained at the moment by young Skywalker, who had glowed when the Admiral had appointed him. Artoona sailed with them under Antilles as well as the disgrace of a ship that Solo commanded. 

Triumph was leading the fleet remaining in the Mediterranean while Lord Vader returned with his prizes to report to the Admiralty and, no doubt, the Crown.

But there was a pall over the ship. Men had lost friends and comrades. 

And their Captain was even now, fighting his own battle for life, having just completed a stupendous victory over Bonaparte.

Six bells.

Veers nodded at Ellery who came to take over, and made his way immediately to the Captain’s cabin where he nearly ran into the Signora who was delivering a tray that smelled divine.

“Permit me,” he said, opening the door for her and she smiled at him.

“Gratzie,” she replied, then “thenk you.” She was quick this Italian mother, though her children were grown apparently. She had picked up a great deal of English now which allowed her even more impressive range to dress down any she felt were causing problems for her Ladyship. 

She moved before him into Piett’s day cabin and set the tray on the table.

Veers wondered if they could get any of that marvelous broth into his friend today. They had managed little bits of water as often as they could and some broth yesterday, but the fever had intensified today and he had been restless and unwilling. 

The Colonel moved quietly into the sleeping cabin, where Lady Skywalker was faithfully cooling Piett’s hot face with a wet cloth. 

“My Lady.”

“Colonel.”

“Any lucidity today?”

She looked up at him and her eyes were red rimmed. But then, so were his, no doubt, both of them not sleeping well. “No,” she replied, “but he has been quieter the last hour.” She set the cloth down to smooth Piett’s hair back. “Did I hear Carlotta come in as well?”

“You did,” he replied. “Shall we attempt to get something in his stomach?”

She nodded and rose to speak to the Signora as Veers seated himself at Piett’s head and carefully raised his unconscious friend to rest against him. He was less adept at this than the Bosun who astonished him with his adroitness in caring for the Captain, but he was passable. He could hear her Ladyship conversing in excellent Italian to her maid, before she returned with a tin cup, gently steaming in her hands.

She perched herself neatly at the Captain’s side to hold the broth to his lips and encourage him to drink. Veers tried not to be overly worried about how little Piett was actually taking, and he could feel the strain in his friend’s slight body as he tried to draw in breaths.

At last, it became apparent he could do no more and her Ladyship set down the cup.

“I would like to give him more pillows as Dr. Henley says it helps him breathe to sit up more, but with so many casualties….”

He nodded, having already given up his own pillow and he was aware her Ladyship had done the same. He shifted himself, resigned to being slightly uncomfortable for some time.

“My Lady, if you help me off with my coat….?”

She understood immediately and rose to ease off his red uniform and hang it neatly over another chair at Piett’s desk. 

“Do you wish your boots removed as well?” she asked gravely and he gave her a small smile. 

“You are not my servant, your Ladyship, I…”

She was already kneeling to tug. “If you are going to let him sleep against you for the next while then we can try and make you as comfortable as possible,” she responded, pulling off one, and then the other, allowing him to lift his legs to the mattress and yes, that was more comfortable.

They were silent for a moment as they listened to the wheezing breaths the Captain was drawing in. The girl sank once more into the chair next to him, her face pale and strained.

“Colonel,” she began apropos of nothing, “I feel that I should tell you….”

“Are you going to confess your subterfuge as ‘Ensign Naberrie’, your Ladyship?” Veers cut her off, watching her face as her eyes widened. “Because your partner in crime has already told me so, shortly before our recent engagement.”

She bit her lip, but did not lower her gaze from his. “You must know he did not plan this with me. He would  _ never… _ ”

Veers chuckled slightly, but his heart was not in it. “Of course I know, my Lady. I have some measure of the sort of man our Captain is. You, however, are a Skywalker, in every inch. I am glad for your sake that nothing untoward occurred.”

“My mother, I am told, might have done something similar,” she responded, tilting that little nose ever so slightly in the air and yes, her Ladyship was standing on her dignity indeed.

“I cannot speak to that of course,” Veers told her. “But I am not here to upbraid you anymore than he could. There are many ways what you did was incredibly admirable.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “But many ways in which it was not, I presume,” she replied coolly.

He pondered his response and decided that he wouldn’t change his direct thoughts merely because she had a title. 

“It was so very dangerous. To you, and to the officers of the ship. If Ozzel had discovered you, and if he had realized the Captain was keeping your secret….” He did not like to think what may have happened to Piett on that front.

She lowered her eyes to the man in question and took his hand once more. 

“Yes, I do realize….I did not think about that, I confess. And….Ozzel does know. Now.”

Veers blinked as he took this in.

_ “What?” _   
  


“He was with my Father when I first came aboard the Executor to see him. I….may have lost my temper.”

_ Veers was not sure what to think yet. Clearly the vice Admiral had not shared the news, but why? _   
  


“You um, did?”

She looked up at him again, blushing lightly. “Well after everything he put the Captain through….wouldn’t you want to hit him? I am certain you did!”

_ She had….?  _ Veers desperately tried to keep a smile off his face.

“My Lady….what precisely did you do?”

“I slapped him as hard as I could. Twice.”

The mental image was too delicious.

“Well,” he breathed, “I can’t say that doesn’t give me a great deal of pleasure. But how in God’s name did you prevent him from revealing your secret once he realized who you were?”

She gave him a positively devilish grin and for the first time, Veers saw Lord Vader peering out of her large brown eyes. 

“He threatened to blackmail my Father with it.”

“What. An.  _ Idiot _ . Your Father obviously didn’t kill him, so what happened?”

“I called him on it. Told him to tell everyone what I did. And I would be happy to call him a lunatic. Either that or freely admit what I did to every paper in Britain and give an exclusive about the levels of pompous assery our vice Admiral could reach. How he is an incompetent fool and abusive pig.”

Veers realized he was holding his breath in utter awe and let it out. 

“Good Lord. I would give my commission to have seen that.”

He managed the first true smile he had managed in days. “You, my Lady, are a wonder and it is a privilege to know you.”

“Thank you,” she said sweetly, “My Father has ensured he will not have command on board a ship again. “

“That is good to hear.”

“Yes,” she responded, expression sobering once more as she felt Piett’s temperature and frowned. “I wish I could feel satisfied about that at the moment.”

And once again, the only sound in the room was Piett’s labored breathing.

“Your Ladyship,” Veers said quietly, tightening his hold on his friend, gently. “I will see this battle through with you to whatever end.”

She lifted eyes that were glittering suspiciously to meet his own. 

“Thank you, Colonel. I think we shall make a very good united force.”

  
  


*****

Leia looked at her reflection in her mirror. She was far too drawn and she could see that she had lost some weight. Her Father was concerned, but she knew she was healthy enough. The strain of worry was at play here.

They were five day’s sail from English shores. This news, coupled with an uneventful journey was bolstering the crew though there was still a lack of spirit present throughout the Lady. It was very difficult to feel uninhibitedly happy when their Captain was dying. 

She gripped the edges of the washstand and bowed her head. 

They had fought so hard. For two weeks now, she, Henley, Veers and Baldwin had fended off that dark spectre. Her Father had not even tried to make her stop and for that she was grateful. He seemed to understand she must see this through. 

She wiped her eyes and tied her apron on. She would not be weak. She was a Skywalker. Child of a courageous mother and bold father. She would battle Death and she would place her foot on his neck.

She straightened her spine and moved out of her cabin to take her turn once more at Piett’s side. She could hear soft murmurs as she entered and gave a small smile at the scene that met her eyes. 

Carlotta had been invaluable, and Leia had been deeply grateful for the motherly woman who could frighten the most hardy of their seaman. Leia had witnessed her telling off a man in Italian for getting a bit forward, before slapping him twice across the face and sweeping off. She had the utmost respect of the crew from that day forward. 

But with Piett she was as tender a mother as one could wish. Currently, she and the Bosun were trying to coax some dinner into him, the big Welshman holding him carefully while the strong boned Italian woman spooned her delicious broth into his mouth. 

“There we are, sir,” the Bosun was murmuring, even though Piett couldn’t hear him. But he held his Captain as though Piett was his son, and in her weariness, Leia found her eyes damp once more. 

_ Stop _ , she told herself, wiping angrily at her face,  _ you will do your duty just like everyone else. _

She stepped into the room and Baldwin looked up at her approach.

“Your Ladyship.”

“Mr. Baldwin. How is he doing?”

“Well. We’ve got half a cup into him, I can tell you, your Ladyship. So that’s something.”

“Caro mio Capitano,” Carlotta said, patting Piett’s arm. “It is good.” She smiled at the Bosun, and Leia watched in some astonishment as a dark flush showed through the man’s deep tan.

_ Well _ .

“Shall I take over then? Has Dr. Henley been yet?”

“No, my Lady,” the Bosun answered, easing Piett back to his pillows as Carlotta gathered up the tray and the bowl. The Italian woman left the room and he paused holding his cap and wringing it.

“My Lady…..”

“Yes, what is it Mr. Baldwin?” she asked kindly.

“I….wondered if you would be so very good as... as to tell me what the Doctor says. So… I can...prepare like.”

Leia had been trying to avoid facing this as well. Every time Henley came he looked more grave.

She cleared her throat lightly. “Of course, Mr. Baldwin. I shall make sure of it. I am happy to say Mr. Venka was up and around today for a short while and did very well.”

“That is very good, my Lady,” the man replied but he still looked sober.

“Thank you, Bosun,” she told him, moving to him impulsively, to put a hand on his arm and reach up to kiss the weathered cheek. “Thank you for all you are doing. I am deeply grateful to you.”

“Your Ladyship. I swore to have his back. In every circumstance.”

She nodded and he left the room. 

Her Captain lay so very  _ still _ . 

It was this more than anything the last three days, that had her heart feeling like lead within her body. It was as though he had no fight left. And he had  _ fought _ . Henley had been surprised that he had lasted this long. 

But these last three days…..

She set about straightening his blankets as she always did, before she took the comb from his washstand and carefully smoothed the brown hair. The Colonel had given him a shave two days previously, but already the shadow was back on his jaw line. Piett could no doubt carry off a very respectable beard if he so desired, but he was of the sort that preferred a close shave as Veers had told her. 

She finished and kissed his forehead, before seating herself and pulling out his copy of Shakespeare to pick up where she had left off in Henry V (his favorite). 

  
  


“This day is called the feast of Crispian:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,

And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall live this day, and see old age…..”

Leia paused, wiping traitorous tears and then slowly leaned down to rest her head against his shoulder. 

“Please live this day, Captain,” she whispered. “Please, dearest Captain. I want you to see old age. And the Colonel. And my Father. Mr. Venka. Dear Baldwin. We want you here with us so we can do as King Harry did. So we can talk of scars and battles  _ together _ .”

“Hear, hear,” said a voice quietly, and she looked up to see Veers standing before her in the doorway. 

“Apologies, Colonel,” she said, drying her eyes and sitting up. “I did not hear you…”

“None, necessary, your Ladyship,” he told her, moving to rest a brief hand on her shoulder. “Has there been any change?” he asked, turning to place a hand on Piett’s head and frowning at the heat still present.

“No,” she admitted. “I….do not know what else to do, except to be by his side. To remind him that he has an anchor here with us.”

“That is all you can do, my Lady,” said Doctor Henley entering without ceremony, and Leia rose to give him room to examine his patient. 

She waited next to the tall Colonel and when Henley turned to face them, she knew in her soul.

“I cannot say this easily, so I shall not try,” the Doctor said, pain evident in his features. “You need to prepare yourselves. It is likely he will slip out in the night.”

Leia reached to grip Veers’ forearm, and found a rigid cord of muscle.

“Doctor..”

“None of us can do anything but pray at this point, Colonel, so if you are a religious man, I advise that. He is too weary. He fought a good fight, but it was too much.”   
  


Veers swallowed heavily, the tall marine, fighting his own grief. 

Later, after Leia had informed her Father and received his comfort, she went to find the Bosun.

He took the news quietly and touched his forehead.

“Keep him comfortable, my Lady,” he said. “Thank you for telling me.”

And now she perched on the Captain’s bed, casting any care for propriety aside, in order to allow Veers to sit in the chair on Piett’s other side. The word had been passed through the ship. Leia knew with certainty her Father would be pacing the quarterdeck outside, without ceasing. He had come in an hour previously and stood at the Captain’s side for some time without speaking before touching her shoulder and departing to the deck.

She and Veers did not try to converse. They were beyond that now. The light from the lantern flickered, casting dancing shadows around the wall. Faintly, Leia could hear the waves astern, and the Lady creaked gently, moving as smoothly as she could as though trying to comfort her Captain.

Veers had his hand over Piett’s chest, laid on his heart, and Leia was mesmerized by the labored rise and fall, watching it until her eyes hurt and she had to move her gaze. 

Waiting was awful.

She had never been patient in the best of circumstances, but this….this drawn out torture was the worst she had ever experienced. 

It was a pattern of sound and movement.

Lights dancing.

Waves hushing each other outside.

Gentle creaks of the wood.

Piett’s breath. 

Veers’ hand.

It took Leia a moment to realize that the cabin was slowly growing lighter with a rosy gold dawn as the shadows on the wall got fainter and greyer.

The shadows were leaving….

She looked once again to Piett’s white face and froze, holding her breath.

Hazel eyes were watching her. Eyes that hadn’t been open in awareness for two weeks now, but there was no mistaking that look.

She was afraid to break the moment--afraid she might be dreaming this.

But she steeled herself. “Captain?” she asked quietly, reaching in habit to feel his forehead. It was cool. 

She was aware of Veers sitting up straight to grip his friend’s arm. 

Bloodless lips moved and Veers was there with water, carefully allowing Piett to drink.

_ Could she allow herself this hope? _

The Colonel was literally _running_ from the room to pass the word for Henley, and he returned to Piett’s side swiftly. 

“Captain dear,” she tried again, touching his face and there. A very small smile and his hand met hers briefly.

The barest whisper, “My dear….”

She was crushed in an agony of hope, not wanting to let herself do so, but finding it hard when he was  _ awake _ , and he knew who she was….

“Firmus,” Veers said on the other side and Piett turned his head with effort to meet the Colonel’s eyes. 

“You….both…..look so…..worried.”

And Leia watched as Veers ignored his own wet cheeks to grip Piett’s hand firmly.

“You have a habit of causing that expression, Captain.”

It was at this juncture Henley entered, out of breath and clearly having just pulled his breeches over his nightshirt.

Veers sat back and the Doctor came to the Captain to feel his head and listen to his lungs and heart.

Then he stood back, fingers on Piett’s wrist and looked at his watch.

At last he looked up at the Captain’s face. 

“You incredible, stubborn bastard,” he declared, and Veers actually snorted in relieved laughter while Leia couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips. 

“We will need to take great care with you, Captain,” Henley continued, striving to look exceedingly cross, but it was belied by the slight curl to his mouth, “but it appears you are going to win this battle. I hope you realize it is completely because of all the equally stubborn ba--….”

“Doctor,” Veers interrupted sternly, “her Ladyship is in the group you are about to refer to.”   
  


“----ah hem. Equally stubborn... _ individuals _ surrounding you. Who refused to let you go.”

Piett found her eyes again. “I believe...you,” he said, and Leia kissed his head tenderly. 

  
  



	20. England's Green and Pleasant Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fleet returns triumphant and Leia takes the Captain home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for some lovely wrap up in these last few chapters. I don't often linger on the recovery parts and so on and perhaps I ought to more. I do love giving everyone a chance to breathe and regroup and a lovely time writing these last bits. Thank you all for sticking with me this far! :)

Piett had nearly no memories of the first 24 hours after he regained true clarity. He was so ridiculously tired, and slept deeply, waking only to accept broth and water. 

By four bells on the afternoon watch of the second day he managed to stay awake for a full twenty minutes, in which time, Henley examined him again and declared officially that he was out of danger. Veers, who was with him, grinned blindingly and Piett smiled at him.

“You did say, both or none,” Max told him with another little pat to the arm. For the Colonel this was practically an embrace and Piett appreciated his friend’s affection. “I am glad to see you meant it.”

“I owe….you a great…..deal, Max,” Piett murmured as Henley went to speak to someone outside of his cabin. 

“I would have given you a lung if I could,” Veers replied sincerely, and Piett chuckled lightly, wondering at a smiling providence that had given him a friend like Veers, not to mention her Ladyship or Tom or the Bosun.

Henley came back in, an uncharacteristic smile on his normally dour countenance.

“Brace yourselves,” he told them. “I’ve informed his Lordship that your recovery is secured. I believe he is passing the word.”

And suddenly from out on the decks, the sound of hundreds of voices cheering together could be heard. 

Max smiled again, meeting his eyes, and Piett tried not to let his emotions get the better of him. 

“I think the crew may approve of you,” the Colonel said.

Moments later, his Lordship entered, looking down at him with his hands on his hips.

“I am delighted to hear that I still have a Captain for this ship,” he declared. And Lord Vader seemed to anticipate one of Piett’s chief worries. “You and the Lady are in need of repair and recovery. She will be waiting for you to resume command, as soon as the Doctor says you’re fit.”

“I…..thank you, my Lord,” Piett managed, the relief leaving him very exhausted indeed.

“Oh and I have ordered them to pass the word to the rest of the fleet. Just to prepare you.”

A cannon boomed from the Executor and Piett started slightly, before realizing what the Admiral meant.

Answering cannons from numerous ships and he felt the honor keenly.

“Well,” Henley commented dryly, “good to know you have enough blood in you to feel self conscious.”’

Veers chuckled. “Yes, that flush response can be counted upon.”

Piett would feel indignant, but he was sleepy and warm and he had no control over his eyelids…..

  
  


*****

He woke to night, with a lantern casting a soft friendly glow in his quarters. He lay still and listened to muted sounds out in his great cabin, and then her Ladyship stood in the doorway holding a tray. 

“Oh good,” she said, her lovely face alight with pleasure. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to wake you.” She came swiftly into the room and set the tray on the small side table they had moved in here for the purpose. It smelled utterly divine.

“The Signora?” he asked. The woman was a miracle worker in the galley, and her Ladyship had already informed him that only very few benefitted from her efforts, the chief among them being Piett. He felt that honor.

“Indeed, my Capitano,” she answered, spreading a soft towel on his chest and seating herself close to him. “Only the very best for you.” 

Piett had found to his great irritation, that he was too weak to even hold his arms up for any length of time. Henley had snorted and huffed, and informed him that he had nearly died, and that he would damn well let people help nurse him back to health. As he physically had no choice, Piett had acquiesced.

He still did not care for his loss of independence for the time being, but had been left to marvel at the people who were apparently very keen to assist him in his recovery. 

_ “Don’t be an idiot, Firmus,” Veers had told him with a smile, carefully running the straight razor over his cheek and damn if that didn’t feel wonderful. “You would do it for any of us. You have. Now stop grumping or you’ll get cut and then I shall receive reproachful looks from her Ladyship.” _

_ Piett had almost smiled and recalled in time that such an action could also cause him injury.  _

He opened his mouth to receive the broth and was pleased to find that there were some bits of meat and vegetable in it this time as well.

Her Ladyship no doubt saw the appreciation on his face, and nodded.

“The Doctor says we can start giving you a few solids now.” Matching action to these words, she took a bit of bread and dipped in the soup before giving it to him. 

_ This must have been what food tasted like before man’s fall.  _

“Good Lord,” he breathed and she laughed. It was so lovely to hear her laugh once more. “Is that...fresh bread?” he asked, marveling.

“Yes. I think my Father would like to employ Carlotta permanently if he could, but obviously she cannot stay. Much as she may wish to…..”

She fed him another bite while he pondered this statement. 

“Why would she wish to stay aboard the Lady?”

And her Ladyship  _ smirked  _ at him.

“ _ That _ , my dearest Captain, has been a most delightful development. But perhaps you should ask the Bosun that question.”

_ Baldwin? What did he have to…..? _

Things fell into place for Piett. 

“Well, I’m….good heavens.  _ Baldwin _ .”

The idea was tickling his fancy very much and he met the dancing brown eyes of his dear girl.

“Exactly. She is equally as terrifying as he is in her way, and they have a great deal of mutual respect. And. Well. It doesn’t hurt that she can cook like this can it?”

She gave him another spoonful and he enjoyed the flavors very much. 

They continued in happy silence for a few more minutes, but Piett’s appetite was still returning and he wasn’t able to eat too much.

“What is our position?” he asked her Ladyship as she tidied things away. It was a strong west wind, he could feel that, and they were close hauled and making good time, but as he lost track of days he didn’t know what that good time meant.

She smiled at him. “Well, Captain of mine, I would love to tell you how many degrees west south west or some such we are, but as I really do not know those specifics I shan’t. I  _ can  _ tell you we are now roughly 36 hours from Southampton.”   
  


“Southampton?” And quite suddenly, he realized that he was not certain how he would proceed. The Lady had been a safe haven, but he was not able to care for himself at the moment. 

“What is it?” her Ladyship asked, seeing his face and no doubt sensing his unease.

“I have my rooms in Portsmouth. I shall need to find a way to get conveyance….” he trailed off as he realized he also needed a servant, but while his pay had increased considerably as Captain of the Executor, he was not certain it extended that far….

“ _ Oh _ . Oh, I deeply apologize, Captain. You do not need to trouble yourself about such things. Of course you shouldn’t.” She came back to him, and he recognized her manner very well---that of her Ladyship in command. 

“You are to come home with us, of course. You surely didn’t believe we would cast you off once we reached England?”

“To come home….?” he stared at her, good food and healing body drugging his mind.

“To Amidala House. It is a long day’s journey but a feasible one nonetheless from the port. You need looking after for some months, Doctor Henley says. You can’t stay on the Lady---she is getting her own needed recovery time. And of _course_ you are not going to struggle through on your own. So. My Father has already agreed that this is the best solution because then you will be under the best care.”

He blinked at her owlishly, so very tired, but needing to understand. 

“And it will be the best care, because….?”

“Because it will be mine, dear Captain. And you are to stay as long as you like--at least until you decide whether you would like property of your own.”

“My dear,” he murmured, rather befuddled now. “I certainly cannot purchase property. But thank you. That is very kind.”

“Stuff,” said her Ladyship, firmly. “You are ours now. Besides, you are quite a hero, Captain of mine. And I think you will find you can purchase property if you wish. But prize money and such matters can be left for much later, for I see you are weary and need to sleep.”

_ Hero...ours…..prize money… _ . This all swirled in his exhausted mind, but he took comfort in her calm demeanor and allowed his eyes to close, smiling, as her lips touched his forehead.

******

Venka limped his way toward the Captain’s cabin, despising the stick he had to use for the time being, but acknowledging he needed it. 

They had come into Southampton to a hero’s welcome---church bells rang, crowds packed the harbor, and the British ensign was flying proudly everywhere. It was indeed an impressive sight to see so many ships on harbor, Venka had reflected.

He had keenly missed the smaller figure at his side as they approached, because Piett richly deserved to see all this as well---much of their success had been his idea. Understandably, he was not fit to do so, but the rest of the officers were present and Lord Vader cut a very fine figure indeed as they led the fleet up the docks. 

Venka was acting captain and had done his best not to allow his nerves to show while he gave his orders. It would not do in the least to make a terrible hash of things now in full sight of the Admiral and all of these crowds. 

But his crew was well trained---the Bosun continued to be a wonder of efficiency and Mr. Davis did admirably, though Venka felt Kelly’s absence deeply as well. He had been a friend as well as a fellow officer. He thought of young Scrapland with his bright, youthful face. This homecoming was indeed a bittersweet one as there were many families here who would discover this day that their sailors would not be setting foot on land ever again. 

Executor was docking in a position of honor which would allow her to have a gangway in position---crucial with all of her wounded crew who would need transport. Oh certainly they could use the tackle, but it was a much slower and more dangerous process. 

The four small tugs were gently nudging Executor now and Venka left it to the Bosun and his men to communicate with their counterparts as the great warship slowly nudged into the dock. At last the Bosun looked to him. 

“All ship shape, sir.”   
  


“Drop anchor Bosun.”

“Aye, sir. Drop Anchor!” he roared and the Lady’s massive anchor was sent down. They were home. 

Things were made fast on the ship and then the wounded were taken off first. They would maintain a skeleton crew while the Lady was repaired. Venka was hopeful that she would not need drydock to do so, but he would leave that to the carpenters, the bosun and the Master. 

At last, Venka had felt things were moving smoothly enough that he could hand the watch to Davis and he went to see how the preparations for the Captain were progressing. 

His rap on the door received an ‘enter’ from a feminine voice and he obeyed, finding her Ladyship moving smoothly about the great cabin, packing things into a big chest on Piett’s behalf. 

“Mr. Venka,” she smiled. “You are looking very well indeed.”

“Thank you, your Ladyship,” he answered, whipping off his hat and giving her a small bow. “I am very much indebted to you.”

Lady Skywalker had personally attended him at different points in his recovery as well as seeing to the Captain. She had been an angel of mercy and the crew would miss her presence sorely. 

“It was my pleasure, sir,” she returned and Venka could practically see the aura of happiness around her. He smiled to himself internally. Piett was well and truly hers, and now that he was recovering, her spirits had been the highest on the ship. He was glad of it---his Captain deserved a family and if he had come by it somewhat unconventionally, that didn’t trouble Venka one whit. 

“I wondered if I might make my farewell to the Captain,” he said and she paused in putting some of Piett’s books (one of his most prized possessions among the few things he owned) in the chest.

“I would think so,” she replied. “The Doctor is with him now, but if you can manage to stand his presence, you are welcome to go in.”   
  


“I did overhear that, your Ladyship!” called Henley’s exasperated tones and Venka smiled at her as he made his way to Piett’s sleeping cabin. 

The man in question was sitting up against his pillows drinking something that the Doctor handed him and making a face.

“I know, Captain, but you have a long and arduous journey ahead of you. This will help ease that passage.”

“Tom,” Piett said, spying him and smiling. The Doctor took the cup from him and nodded to Venka.

“Lieutenant. I must see about organizing the stretcher. Don’t spend too much time on that leg, mind you.”

Venka exchanged a longsuffering look with Piett at this as he came to the Captain’s side.

“It’s very good to see you awake, sir,” he said, taking Piett’s outstretched hand and shaking it. 

The Captain was a shadow of himself at the moment and Venka tried not to let that show on his countenance. Piett was very thin and worn, his face unnaturally pale for a sailor. But his eyes held that spark that Venka had grown accustomed to, and it was that more than anything that encouraged him.

“I know, Tom,” Piett sighed, resting back on his pillows. “Trust me, I am aware of what a spectre I must look. And I must leave you all for months…” he frowned, and Venka understood.

“Sir, you are alive and recovering. I am aware you will be a terrible patient….”

Piett smiled slightly at this.

“....but I am sincerely glad you will be well cared for and the end result will see us on the quarterdeck together once more.”   
  


“You are right, of course. I am glad to know you are well, Mr. Venka, and of course, Lord Vader is here too. Good heavens, I am already sleepy. Henley dosed me with laudanum for the journey.”

Piett stifled a yawn and looked at him apologetically. 

“Then I will bid my farewell sir, and I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Before you go,” Piett said, “there is a letter on my desk which her Ladyship was good enough to write while I dictated. For Mrs. Scrapland…. would you be so good as to—?”

The two men held each other’s gaze in understanding. 

“Of course sir. I am sure she will appreciate it.”

_ His Captain. Barely days out of the Shadows himself but needing to comfort a grieving mother. He wondered if Piett had any idea of the devotion his crew had for him. _ _  
  
_

“Thank you for everything, Tom,” Piett said earnestly and Venka saluted.

“Fair winds, sir.”

  
  


*****

Veers kept a close eye on the men carrying Piett’s stretcher down the gangway. He knew he needn’t worry----one of them was the Bosun---but this was his friend, his only friend, and he felt rather proprietary. 

Her Ladyship was close at his side, along with the Admiral, as they waited by the carriage. The Bosun was firmly in charge as he and other other man carefully maneuvered the stretcher to rest across the two seats. When Piett was settled to his satisfaction, the Bosun gave a small pat to the blankets covering him and looked at Veers.   
  
“Safe travels, Colonel.”

“Thank you, Mr. Baldwin.”

The Bosun touched his knuckles to his forehead and then turned, shocking Veers, to bow to the Signora.

“Arrevaderchee,” he said awkwardly, and the woman flushed and smiled.

“Si, Mr. Baldwin.”

Veers opened his mouth, but her Ladyship suddenly squeezed his forearm very hard and he shut it again, turning instead to help the Signora into the carriage.

“Father,” said the girl and he kissed her cheek.

“Safe travels my dear. I know you shall take very good care of our Captain. I will visit when I can.”

“I will write you,” her Ladyship promised and took Veers’ hand to step into the carriage and seat herself by Piett’s head.

“Admiral,” Veers said, turning to his commander.

“Thank you for conveying them safely, Colonel.” Lord Vader held out his hand.

“It is my genuine pleasure, sir,” Veers responded, gripping it firmly.

It was a brisk, early October in England and the trees were a gorgeous splash of color against the grey sky. This particular drive was spectacular and Veers enjoyed being next to the coachman. Piett was soundly asleep and should remain so for some hours yet, so the Colonel watched the landscape going gently by and took in great breaths of damp earth, sweet rotting leaves, and the warm scent of the horses. 

He did love the sea and ships, but Veers was a marine, not a sailor, so this time on land brought deep pleasure to his soul as well. In fact, this was the first time in many years he had felt such peace and he realized that this was due to the fact that he had people in his life once more. Oh certainly, he always had his men and he was devoted to them. But friends….family….it had been long since he had such connections.

The moment Henley had declared that Piett would live, Veers had felt such warm relief, and realized just how much the short sailor had come to mean to him. 

Piett would no doubt be offended to be referred to in such a way, and Veers decided to tuck that one away for another day to spring on the Captain. 

Her Ladyship had thought of everything, and midway through the journey, the coach stopped at an inn where a good natured hostess was waiting along with two hale young men. 

She curtsied deeply. 

“Your Ladyship. Everything is ready, will you step this way?”

The girl looked back at Veers. 

“I would very much like to see the Captain settled before I refresh myself.”

“Of course, your Ladyship.”

Veers terrified the life out of the two boys as they carefully removed Piett’s stretcher and then followed them to assist in settling in the rooms that her Ladyship had hired for a few hours of refreshment. 

They all reconvened in the private sitting room and once his friend was settled on the settee, Veers had the job of trying to wake him enough to get him to eat. 

Her Ladyship and Carlotta were warming themselves in front of the fire as the hostess bustled in with a massive tray and Veers closed his eyes at the smell of hearty English fare. If he was not mistaken, a meat pie was steaming through its pastry and he would walk many a mile to taste something that smelled that good. 

Her Ladyship came over with a mug of tea as the Colonel slid an arm under Piett, and raised his friend’s head to his shoulder.

“Come on now, Firmus, the smell of that pie alone should have you ready to get off of this bench.”

Piett looked at him muzzily. 

“Max….? What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t suppose you would all travel without me did you? Now, tea.”

He helped the Captain hold the mug and after a few sips, Piett took charge of it in his own hands.

“Where are we?” he asked, once half the tea had been drunk, but Veers could see he was ready to sleep once more. 

The girl was at his side with a small amount of the pie which brought a light of interest to Piett’s eyes.

“We are halfway to Amidala House, dear Captain. But we all needed some refreshment I think you’ll agree.”

“I can’t recall the last time I had meat pie,” Piett breathed, and Veers grinned. 

“Same, friend of mine. Can you navigate that all right, or shall I lend a hand?”

Piett huffed slightly, but he was clearly very tired and his attempt to utilize a fork made that apparent. 

“Damn and blast,” he sighed as the Colonel took over. “I _despise_ being….” he stopped, frowning. 

“Dearest Captain,” said her Ladyship with an understanding smile, and a gentle pat to his shoulder, “Your strength will return soon, I assure you, provided you allow us to help. You are under my command at the moment.”

And Piett was nodding off almost before he had finished the pie, which Veers handed back to the girl. 

“English food is too much with the pastry,” Carlotta groused.

Her Ladyship smiled at Veers across the small table.

“Some might say the Italian food is too much with the pasta,” she returned.

“Not possible,” the woman said with confidence, and Veers chuckled. 

The two country boys placed Piett carefully back in the carriage and even attempted hackneyed salutes at Veers’ stern countenance while the kind hostess handed a basket of lovely autumn apples to her Ladyship with another curtsey.

“For the journey,” she said and the girl smiled broadly at her.

“You have been terrifically kind. I am sure we shall see you again.”

Veers did indeed appreciate the hospitality, but he was anxious to be on their way once more to reach their destination before dark. That, and such a trip was very taxing for his friend, and he wished to protect Piett’s tentative health as best as he could.

The sun dropped lower in the sky and the long shadows grew. It provided an utterly glorious glow around them as though autumn was trying to provide a natural fireworks display to celebrate their homecoming to the green isle of England. Veers would feel more like celebrating once his friend was comfortably settled, safe in the home of the Skywalker family. 

He couldn’t deny the beauty all around him and the clouds were lined with a shining golden haze as at last they crested a hill to view the beautiful sandstone house, well set in the green countryside below them. 

They passed through the massive gates with the English lion prancing on either side and then they were on a graveled drive, the wheels crunching through it as they finally pulled up to the entryway of the elegant estate.

A line of servants was waiting for them, and her Ladyship was out of the carriage almost before it stopped moving. 

“Your Ladyship. Welcome home!”

“It is so very good to be home, Mary,” she said, turning as Veers made his way down somewhat stiffly and gave a hand to Carlotta.

“This is Colonel Veers. He shall be spending one night with us, so the green room will do. Is everything ready for Captain Piett?”

“Yes, my lady,” replied the maid, a rosy cheeked and pleasant looking person. 

“And this is Carlotta who will also be staying with us as a maid. Carlotta, Mary is my maid and is very disappointed that she did not join me in Italy. She adores your country.”

This was precisely the right thing to say to ease the two women into an amicable working relationship as Carlotta beamed at the younger girl.

“Ah, it is bellissima! Someday you shall go!”

She surprised the English girl by seizing her in a close hug and then a hearty kiss on both cheeks. 

“Mary can show you where to go, Carlotta,” said her Ladyship serenely in charge, while two footmen eased Piett’s stretcher down.

“Colonel, this is James and that is William. They will be assisting me to care for the Captain, while he is here.”

“Sir,” the taller man nodded. 

Veers nodded back as more servants began to unload the trunks and one took his bag for him. He followed her Ladyship, who was behind the stretcher, down the wide hall and further back into the house to a pleasant room with a large bed and a roaring fire. 

He glanced around, noting the furniture and the doors that led out to the garden presumably.

“This is quite a large bedroom for the ground floor.”

“Oh no,” said the girl as the two men carefully lowered the stretcher to the bed. “I had them rearrange things. This was the small sitting room you see. I thought it would be more comfortable for the Captain and he will not have to navigate any stairs for some time. Besides, the view is lovely and it will be easy for the servants to attend him.”

She had thought of every possible thing to bring his friend comfort as he recuperated, and Veers was very glad that Fate had seen fit to place these two in each other’s orbit. 

Veers saw the two footmen were hesitating over the sleeping Captain.

“I shall take it from here for the moment,” he informed them, determined to help Piett where he could since he would not be able to stay long. He carefully removed the blankets as the girl turned down the bedclothes, already comfortable from the warming pans placed there which the two servants removed. 

The Colonel lifted his friend, and was disturbed to feel how light he was as he moved him swiftly to the bed and her Ladyship tucked the covers around him while the footmen removed the stretcher.

She felt the Captain’s head. “A little feverish, but Doctor Henley said to expect that after travel. Our local physician, Doctor Braxten will come in the morning.”

Veers nodded as she ran a gentle hand over Piett’s cheek before coming to Veers’ side and motioning for them to exit the room.

“You must be tired as well, Colonel. James will show you your room and then we can see about supper.”

He paused in the broad hall, filled with family portraits and several pieces of statuary.

“Your Ladyship….” 

He was so rough with words and wasn’t quite sure how to say what he wanted to this extraordinary young woman.

She waited as he looked down at his hat and back into her large brown eyes.

“I know of no one else who would do this. I just….you know how much I value our Captain….” he paused again.

“If we were living several hundred years ago, I would swear fealty to you as a knight, your Ladyship, for what you are doing on his behalf.” 

He felt deeply self conscious, but could not think of another way to phrase how he felt about her generosity.

She did not laugh. She moved to him and took both his hands in her tiny ones, then raised her face and he realized her intention. He bent his head and she kissed both cheeks. 

“ _ You _ , Colonel, are the truest friend that one could ever wish for. I, in turn, am so very glad he has you. It seems our alliance has been successful.” She smiled then and he returned it.

“I know I am leaving him in the best of hands,” he told her. 

“Yes,” she agreed, with utter sincerity. “You are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Safe harbor for the Captain. 
> 
> I have had this image in mind for some time for this chapter. It makes me quite happy after everything Piett has been through. And it's been years since our Captain had any sort of home to speak of, with people who care about him.  
> So here we are at last, and I like to think that he can truly rest for the first time in a very long time.


	21. For Service Meritorious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett is recovering nicely and Leia fills him in on some things that he missed. Anakin comes to visit Amidala House.

Piett turned at the knock on his door, but did not look up from the cuff he was buttoning.

“Come!”

His favorite person entered, carrying a breakfast tray that seemed rather heavy, but if the Captain had learned anything about her Ladyship, it was never to assume anything from her small stature. Certainly something he could relate to.

“That smells marvelous, my dear.”

She smiled over her shoulder as she set it on the round mahogany table and began to uncover dishes.

“Carlotta does not agree and thinks we English are rather touched in the head to want kippers for breakfast.”

Piett came over to her, deciding he was not going to fuss with his stock and leaving it half done, so he could inhale the smell of kippers and muffins.

“I must confess that it is a wonderful thing to have an appetite again,” he informed her and she laughed, setting aside the covers and moving to stand before him.

Ah. Trust her Ladyship to see to it that things were completed to her satisfaction.

“I completely agree,” she told him with a little smile at the stock she was finishing for him with skilled hands. “I think after breakfast, it is time that you and I took a stroll outside. Just the garden for now as Doctor Braxten has emphasized that you must take this slowly.”

Piett had regained his feet for the first time two days previously after three weeks of residing in the Skywalker residence. It had been a very strange experience for the Captain to have his every need anticipated and provided for. While certainly not unpleasant, he was deeply impatient to be independent once more---something he had been scolded for by both the Doctor and her Ladyship. 

He sighed as she finished her work and patted his chest. 

“I am learning with you, dearest Captain, that this is your greatest flaw. I thought I was impatient, but you are showing me some competition.”

He seated her and then himself, and smiled ruefully as she poured tea.

“I assure you, my dear, I have plenty more flaws. But at the moment I would very much like to see the ship and know how the crew are faring…”

“Do you not trust my Father to look after that?” she asked, handing him a cup.

“Of course I….”

“Or Lieutenant Venka?”

“Naturally he can….”

“Or the Bosun?” she finished sweetly, serving him two kippers as Piett reached for a muffin.

He set one on his plate and then regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

“Must you crush me with logic, dear girl? I haven’t had my breakfast yet.”

She laughed. “I find that it is easier to win an argument with you when you are hungry and cannot answer because your mouth is full.”

He smiled again and reflected that he couldn’t recall smiling so often in all his life. She was exceedingly pleasant company and was quite clearly adored by her staff. 

He took a bite of his muffin and finished before speaking again.

“I….have always needed to see things for myself you see. It would reassure me greatly…”

“I know,” she said, and he knew she really did. She reached across the table to pat his arm. “I do know---Father is just the same. I do want to take a trip to see the Lady as well, but only when the Doctor says you can stand it. It is 40 miles both ways, Captain of mine, and you do not want to set back the good progress you have made in your recovery do you?”

No, he very much didn’t. But the sea was in his blood, singing to him, and calling to him, and he was fiercely determined to be there as soon as possible.

The girl read this on his countenance and her own dropped slightly. “And….I must confess selfishly, Captain, that I do not wish to rush this time. It is so lovely to have you here. I am not…..alone, and one of my favorite people is with me….”

He felt badly. She had been so very generous to him, this lovely powerhouse of a woman, and she would have to bid them all farewell once more in a few months’ time. He did not like to think of her alone in this big house once more.

He reached for her hand and gripped her small fingers. 

“I apologize, my dear. I can absolutely be patient while in your company. Thank you for reminding me of that. So. I am yours to command. What do you have planned?”   
  


She brightened and gave him a grateful look. 

“Garden stroll today. We may work up to horseback eventually so I can show you more of the estate.”   
  


He blanched slightly. “My dear, I do not even recall the last time I was on a horse.”

She smiled and buttered a muffin. “I am not here to judge, Captain dear. I think if you can stay on that will be good enough.”

“But we have a trip to make to London as well very soon. And today, the tailor is coming because you need some more civilian clothing other than one suit, and also a new uniform.”

“I…..do?”

He was not quite sure how to respond to this.

“You do,” she answered firmly, rising, and he did so as well as she rang the bell.

“My dear girl, I do appreciate the thought, but I must tell you, I do not think my funds will go quite so far as…..”

She smiled at him. “I think you will find that they do. It is time to explain some things that have been happening while you have been ill and recovering. Ah, James. Could you have William and Mary retrieve our cloaks and gloves? And we are finished with the breakfast things.”

His mind whirled around this, trying to recall bits and pieces from recent memory.

“I promise to explain,” she said, patting his arm while the servants entered.

He took the heavy blue cloak….

“This is my cloak,” he said in some surprise, swinging it around his shoulders.

“Of course it is,” the girl answered, donning her own and pulling on warm gloves. “I had your sea chest brought and all your uniform things. You can borrow Luke’s gloves for the moment. And I believe Carlotta has been busy knitting this scarf for you.”

He was handed a warm pair of very fine sheepskin gloves that he tugged on before accepting the lambswool scarf, made very well indeed in a deep grey yarn.

“I had to talk her out of making it scarlet. She thinks it is much too dull this way, but I did think as you are a naval Captain, that perhaps you might not appreciate scarlet.”

He grinned at this, as he settled it around his neck and then offered his arm to her as James opened the doors to the gardens.

“I appreciate that very much. And it was kind of her to think of me. I shall make sure to thank her.”

It was likely going to be the last fine day in October before the English weather decided to throw itself angrily into winter. It was crisp and clear and Piett was so glad to be outside that he paused with the sun on his face and her Ladyship waited patiently as he stood and breathed in deeply, grateful that he could draw full breaths once more.

“Thank you,” he told her, patting the hand on his arm, as they proceeded slowly up the gravel walks past flower beds that were all finished for the year and tucked in for the winter. “This feels lovely.”

“Now, Captain of mine, I have a great many things to tell you. Feel free to ask me questions,” the girl said as they moved easily toward the maple groves, now holding the last yellow and red leaves before surrendering to the inevitable winds.

“Our victory at sea was rather tremendous. So much so that Father says Bonaparte will not be able to have any significant presence in the Mediterranean again. But more to the point as it concerns you, there was a great deal of prize money. You have earned 10,000 pounds of that.”

Piett stopped.  _ Had he ever had so great a sum in his life? _

She smiled up at him, tugging his arm gently and they continued walking. “In appreciation for your actions and for the skilled tactics that you displayed, the Crown has gifted you a matching sum.”

“Good heavens,” he said, looking down at her.

“So you see,” her Ladyship continued, holding his arm firmly in both her hands, “You very much can afford to get some new attire. And …..you are going to need it soon.”

“I am?” he asked, feeling much bemused now as though this was a dream. But her grip on his arm was real, as was the warm sun and cold air.

“Yes, because we are to go to London and appear at Court, once you are fit enough to do so. For services meritorious and so beneficial to the British throne, you are to be knighted.”

He stopped again, reeling. 

“Do you need to sit down?” asked her Ladyship, concerned.

“I…..I think I should prefer to keep walking…”

_ Born in Manchester and a mere sailor…...a knighthood? _

“But it was your Father who commanded us,” he managed at last.

“Yes, dear Captain, but he credited you very highly in his report to the Admiralty. Much of it was your idea after all. And he does not take praise away from others where it is merited. The knighthood was directly from His Majesty, lest you think we Skywalkers manipulated anything,” she added quickly.

“Good Lord,” he managed faintly. 

“I know. This is why I didn’t wish to tell you earlier. It is quite a lot. Here, we’re at the lake and this bench affords a gorgeous view. Let us rest a bit before we go back to the house.”

They sat side by side in silence while he grappled with this. The view was indeed stunning, the lake reflecting the blue of the sky and the yellow and red carpet of leaves all around it made for a very lovely contrast. 

“These….these are all good things, I think, Captain,” she said at last as he tried to organize his mind. 

“They are, my dear,” he said quickly, “I am sorry, I merely…..I am not sure what to say.”

She leaned into him and he was reminded of happy times on the Devastator with her.

“How did I ever deserve you, my Lady?” he asked suddenly. “I am not sure if you will ever know just how much joy you have given me. I never expected that when my family….”

He stopped, not trusting himself, and appreciated her grip on his gloved hand.

“Quite clearly Fate knew we needed each other,” she said confidently. “And that brings me to the most important thing.”

_ There was more? _ _   
  
_

“If I am to be allowed to call you by your Christian name, I would much rather it be in a familial way, rather than such a formal title. So. I think that ‘Uncle Firmus’ is much friendlier than ‘Sir Firmus’, don’t you agree?”

She sounded the tiniest bit nervous, as though unsure of his approval. This girl. Who had just offered him the most wonderful thing indeed---something worth far more than prize money and titles. Belonging. Family.

“My dear,” he said somewhat brokenly, “you may call me whatever you desire. but….I would be so very honored if you wish to do that.”

“I do wish it,” she said, smiling with a serenity he envied in the moment and he found himself getting kissed on the cheek and he flushed as she laughed.

“Are you going to do that when the King knights you?” she teased, and wasn’t that a horrific thought.

“My dear,” he groaned. “There are only so many things I can cope with at the present, and that image is one I cannot manage at the moment.”

“Well,” she said, rising and extending her hand to him. “We shall have to practice giving you plenty of compliments then, Uncle Firmus, so you can get very used to that.”   
  


“I’m not sure that is my favorite idea either,” he admitted, feeling a twinge of pleasure to be so addressed. 

“Well that is too bad,” she said as they began their return to the house. “And Father is coming in two days to stay for a while so he can help me.”

The Admiral.

“Is ah, your Father likely to be approving of your referring to me in such a familiar way?”

“Of course,” she replied unconcerned. “Luke loves the idea---we’ve not had any aunts and uncles you see. Besides, I love you, naturally Father was approving.”

He stopped again at this declaration. The last time  _ anyone  _ had said that to him….?

“What?” she asked as he wrestled with himself. 

“I….you...I haven’t heard that in….”

Understanding swept her face and she reached to touch his cheek before he drew her close, dropping his lips to her hair. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, and she squeezed him tightly. 

“It’s not all that hard,” she said into his cloak, "you're a very lovable person." And he could hear her smile.

This unfettered lightness in his soul was new and wonderful, and as they came into view of the large house once more, he vowed silently that he would find a way to serve this family for the rest of his life.

  
  


*****

Anakin looked at the other occupants of the big table with satisfaction. It had been over a year since he had sat at his dining table in this house. The large dining room, with its high ceilings and gracious chandeliers had always been one of his favorites. Padme’ had loved hospitality and dinner parties---her exquisite taste was everywhere from the pale green walls to the polished sideboards and huge matching vases currently holding exquisite flowers from the hothouse their gardener took great pride in maintaining. 

He was in uniform and Piett had donned his for his Admiral’s arrival as well. He sat on Anakin’s left and Leia was to his right. Luke was on a mission in the North Sea and he hoped to see his son near Christmas tide. 

“I hear from Leia that you have been made aware of all the very lucrative success from our actions,” he said, savoring his meat. It wasn’t beef….

“Yes, my Lord, “ the Captain answered, smiling across at Leia, who was looking so like her mother in her stunning wine colored gown. “I must confess to checking if this is all real on occasion.”

“It is very real, Uncle Firmus,” responded his daughter, trotting that title out once more and smiling at Piett’s expected pleased flush.

“You are going to have to get used to that eventually,” the Admiral commented, taking another bite of meat and really---it was extraordinarily good. “Lieutenant Antilles has given up explaining to people that he is not, in fact, Cousin Wedge. Leia was ten when she decided upon that.”

“Quite so,” his daughter said serenely. “You see, dear Captain? It’s just easier to accept that this is how things are.”

“I will not protest such a gift, my dear,” Piett told her. The Captain was still much too pale, but his spark was back, Anakin was glad to see, and he was a far cry from three weeks previous. 

“Leia, my dear,” Anakin said, “this meat is extraordinary. Cook was very good indeed when I left---I did not think it possible for her to get even better.”   
  


“Ah,” she replied with a small smile, “Cook has begun working in tandem with the Signora. Their combined talents have been a delight, have they not, Uncle Firmus?”

A lighter flush from the man. “Indeed so. Long may this happy union reign in the kitchen,” he agreed.

“This is wild boar,” Leia said, “done the way they do in Florence.”

“It is marvelous,” said Anakin, finishing it off and carving another slice. “Let us have her come out so I may pay her my compliments.”

In short order the woman came out, smoothing her dress with her hands and dropping a curtsey.

“Carlotta,” Anakin said, “this was magnificent. Thank you so very much.”

She smiled broadly at him. “Grazie my Lord. My Lady. My Capitano. Boar must be cooked thees way.”

“Indeed it must,” said Piett.

“Carlotta,” continued Anakin, curious about something. “Did I happen to see you in Southampton, two days ago?”

“Si, my Lord,” she answered. “Her Ladyship give me two days, most kindly.”

He had wondered if that had been her.

“I would have been most happy to lend you a carriage,” he told her. “You did not need to hire one.”

“You are most kind, my Lord,” she replied with another bob, “but I did not hire it. Meester Baldwin did.”

Piett had laid down his cutlery now and was watching this with avid interest as was Leia. 

“Well,” said his daughter, “that was very good of him. And how is the Bosun?”

“He is very good. We married.”

A beat and Piett’s eyes were huge. Anakin coughed once. 

“As in….you just got married?”

“Si, my Lord.” The woman was supremely unconcerned and spoke as if she was commenting on the rain yesterday.    
  


“Well, that….”

“Good heavens,” murmured Piett reaching for his wine. 

His daughter recovered first.

“I am so very happy for you both,” she said. “Here, since we did not get to witness the ceremony, you must drink a toast with us.” Leia rose and retrieved a glass and poured some of the burgundy into it. “To you and Mr. Baldwin. And many happy years together.”

“Here, here, “ added Piett and Anakin. 

The newly minted Mrs. Baldwin drank with them, and then curtsied once more. Anakin marveled at her complete calm.

“Grazie, again,” she said, and disappeared back to the kitchen.

They sat looking at each other and then Leia burst into laughter. Piett began to chuckle and Anakin joined them.

“That is amazing,” Leia gasped. “Oh my. Who proposed to whom I wonder?”

“Excellent question,” nodded Piett. “As a united front they are somewhat terrifying to contemplate.”

They retired to Anakin’s study where a cheerful fire was snapping and bobbing and he poured brandy all around.

“Now then,” he said, as they all settled themselves comfortably, Leia, slipping off her shoes, and Piett stretching his legs out toward the flames with a happy sigh, “I am exceedingly glad to see you so well, Captain.”

Piett patted Leia’s hand. “That is entirely due to the outstanding care I have received here, my Lord. I cannot possibly thank you all enough….”

“And you shouldn’t have to,” Anakin interposed. “After all you have done, we would be terrible ingrates not to return the favor in some small way. Leia, my angel, would you fetch that box there on the mantle?”

He was pleased with himself for having one more surprise for his Captain.

She did so, giving him a raised eyebrow as she handed the polished cherry wood box over. 

“Captain, I have given this some thought and conferred with several other men that I trust, as well as Lord Nelson.”

He enjoyed the stunned looks from both his daughter and his Captain. 

“I like to plan for the future you see---make certain that our navy will be in good hands going forward. So. These are for you.”

He rose and handed the box to Piett, who hastily set his glass down on the side table and accepted it.

“My Lord, so much has been done for me, I am….”

“Open the damn box, Piett,” Anakin told him with a grin.

The smaller man did so, and then just sat and looked down into the velvet lined depths. 

Leia scooted herself over on the settee to peer over his shoulder. 

“Father,” she breathed, and looked at him with such a beautiful smile Anakin wished he could do things like this every day to put it on her face. 

“My Lord…..” Piett paused to clear his throat slightly, before raising his eyes to Anakin’s. “I am so very honored. But…..I trust you will not find this impertinent.” He gathered himself visibly. “I very much wish to remain on the Executor, my Lord, and if this would take me away from her, I would need to most gratefully decline.”

_ And this right here was part of the reason the man was exactly the right person for this post.  _

“Firmus,” said Anakin and yes, he was likely enjoying himself too much at Piett’s expense, by throwing his Christian name at him, but he couldn’t help himself. “You will, of course, remain on the flagship. As Fleet Captain, that is rather imperative.”

Piett lifted the shining epaulettes from the box reverently.

“You see, you need the new uniform more than ever,” his daughter told the Captain with a pat to his arm.

“You knew about this?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

“I did not,” she replied, “I was mostly thinking you needed a uniform for receiving a knighthood.”

And Piett set the box down carefully and rose suddenly to stand before the fire, hands tightly clasped behind his back. Clearly he was wrestling with something, but before Anakin could ask, he turned with a troubled face.

“My Lord….I did not join His Majesty’s service for such honors and acclaim. I did not seek those things and all of this….I confess to feeling rather inadequate. I would be very happy to be one of many obscure captains just doing my duty. I’m….I…..Sir, I’m just a navy captain from Manchester.”

Anakin rose as well to come and stand by him. The Captain needed to hear this.

“And that, Piett, is precisely why you are the right man for the job. What you just said there is what I have seen. And I value that a great deal. I believe the Good Books says something about a man being faithful in little, being therefore faithful in much. It’s time to see you placed over much, Captain.”

He held out a hand and Piett took it.

Anakin shook his hand firmly. “Besides,” he said, releasing the man and smiling over at Leia, “if you can handle being part of the Skywalker family drama, this should be no trouble at all for you.”

“Since that is coming from the most dramatic family member,” his daughter said impertinently, rising to stand by Piett and take his arm “I can only agree, dear Captain.”


	22. Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett, Leia, and Anakin travel to London for the investiture ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was during the reign of George III that Buckingham Palace became the official residence for his wife, the Queen. The family did not fully move into it and make it more official as their quarters until later, but they were largely living there in the early 19th century. So the ceremony takes place at St. James' Palace which had been the official residence up to that point. It remained the spot for official ceremonies and meetings even though the Royal family did not spend much time there. 
> 
> (My nerdly studies as I wrote this. I do love finding out more history things than I perhaps need, but it brings me joy, so.... ;D)

Piett listened to the musicians in front of them with rapt attention. It was their second night in London and her Ladyship had arranged for them to attend a concert at St Martin in the Fields. Her father sat on her other side as the mellow notes swept over them, pulled out of the strings by the skilled fingers of the performers. 

This was unlike anything he had ever heard growing up in his very working class area. Their church had an organ certainly, and on occasion, a musician or two would play, but this….

Piett recalled a few times as a boy, when he would linger outside the great cathedral and listen to music he had been certain was sourced directly from the heavens. But he could never stay long---his childhood had been one of hard work and little play. He snatched moments to appreciate beauty wherever he could find them, storing them all hungrily in his soul. 

The last hauntingly beautiful note finished, hovering in the air, and then the gathered audience applauded. 

He fetched her Ladyship’s warm velvet lined cloak and both of them waited as Lord Vader spoke with numerous people in the crowd that was slowly making its way out.

“I imagine this is common for your Father,” he commented wryly.

“I would think so,” she replied, “but as this is the longest I can recall being with him on land, I couldn’t say definitively. Wasn’t that just sublime? Have you ever heard anything more beautiful?”

He smiled at her as she took his arm.

“It was utterly delightful and I loved every minute, my dear. Thank you for arranging it. But I have to tell you, it was not  _ quite  _ the most beautiful thing I have heard.”

She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Oh yes?”

“No, the most lovely thing I heard was your playing for me.”   
  


She snorted lightly as they followed in the Admiral’s wake of admirers. His commanding officer was unfailingly polite, but Piett knew the set of his shoulders and he was impatient to be away.

“Uncle Firmus, that is a rather huge exaggeration. I am nowhere near as skilled as those musicians.”   
  


“I cannot speak to that, my dear, but I found your performances the most lovely. I am not trying to flatter you---they will forever be some of my fondest memories.”

_ By the fourth day of his stay at Amidala House, Piett was aware enough to be bored, but not physically capable of doing much about it. _

_ Her Ladyship however, had planned for all things, including entertaining a deeply impatient Captain as he recovered his strength.  _

_ She had read to him for hours, and her voice had grown hoarse on occasion. When he had protested on her behalf, she waved him off and ordered more tea for them both.  _

_ Both of them were decent at chess, so she had set up a board and taken instruction from him as to which of his pieces to move. He had won the first two matches and looked at her suspiciously. _

_ “Do not hold back just because I am currently incapacitated,” he told her. _

_ She looked at him guiltily and proceeded to beat him soundly the next two matches.  _

_ “I knew it,” he told her tiredly, and she laughed as she rose to add another log to the fire before tucking the gloriously warm down comforter closer about him and bidding him good night. _

_ And she had played her violin for him at his request. _

_ “It has been some time,” she told him the first night she took it out of its case and tuned the strings. “I am terribly out of practice.” _ _   
  
_

_ He had lain against his pillows and watched as she lovingly tuned her instrument. It was elegant, just like her, and the first touch of her bow drew a quivering, uncertain note.  _

_ She laughed, slightly embarrassed. _

_ “I would like to hear,” he had encouraged. “It is just me after all.” _

_ She had bent swiftly to kiss his cheek at that. “Just you is one of the most important audiences I could have.” _

_ And she proceeded to play, drawing his heart out as he watched her. He could have listened forever, but discovered to his chagrin, that he had fallen asleep somewhere in there. This seemed to please her however, rather than put her out, and so it became an evening tradition, once he was too weary for a game or conversation. _

_ She would play and he would listen contentedly, watching the firelight reflect off of the highly polished wood of her instrument, and glint off the rich tones of her hair.  _

_ Most nights it sent him peacefully to sleep. On several however, as he became stronger, she would finish and he would ask her about the piece and the composer and they spent happy hours discussing music or art, or history, and Piett’s soul---so hungry all these years for beautiful things--had overflowed.  _

“They are some of mine as well,” she answered happily, snugging in close to his side as they reached the entrance at last and Piett spotted the carriage. He handed her Ladyship in carefully and waited as Lord Vader approached.

“Don’t wait for me, man, get out of this freezing air!” the Admiral commanded, reaching them. “You are still not fully ship shape yet.”

Piett huffed lightly at this mollycoddling, but obeyed, seating himself opposite her Ladyship as her father swung in beside her. 

It was indeed a very cold November evening and London was far colder than Amidala House. But they were present for Piett’s investiture the next day, and had chosen to take a week at the Skywalker residence in Grosvenor Square. 

“I heard that noise, Captain,” Lord Vader said, assisting his daughter in tucking a blanket around her skirts, and handing another to Piett. “You are rather valuable to us, and I do not intend for you to have a relapse on my watch.”

It was still taking some adjustment---this having other people care about his well being business.

He smiled and took the blanket to tuck around his legs. Carriages, no matter how well made, could be quite draughty. 

“Thank you both,” he told the two Skywalkers across from him. “It is….very gratifying to have you here for this. And of course for your ever generous hospitality.”

Her Ladyship waved a gloved hand. “You are family now, dear Captain. Of course we are here.”

“Have you given thought to whether you might purchase something in the city, Piett?” Lord Vader asked.

He shook his head adamantly. “No, my Lord. I can appreciate London’s many assets, but I have no desire for a permanent tie here.”

No, such permanence was reserved for family indeed. And he was still grappling with having such great sums in his name. Her Ladyship had revisited the idea of property near them and they had found a lovely home a mere five miles from Amidala House. It was much smaller of course, but well built and set on a very nice piece of land. He had never thought to be a landowner until perhaps he retired, and even then, it was not certain he could afford it. He would never have to worry about money again, and he wondered if would ever be used to that.

Lord Vader was looking at him knowingly across the way and Piett recalled that his commander had come from similar circumstances, and thus very likely knew exactly how he was feeling. 

“I am more than happy with Haven, my Lord.”

He had been charmed by the name of the house--it made him think of safe harbors and friendly waters.

“Quite so, Piett. I am delighted for you. Well done, Leia,” he continued, turning to his daughter. She smiled at them both. 

“I do not recall who told me, a governess perhaps, that family should be no more than five miles away if you like them and no closer than five and twenty if you do not.”   
  


Piett chuckled. “Well thank you very much indeed then, my dear.”

“Luke is quite sorry to miss the ceremony, Captain,” the Admiral commented, “but I received a missive from him this morning. If the weather and the French hold as they ought, he should be with us for Christmas.”

“All together,” her Ladyship marveled. “Oh I pray so!”

Piett could not recall the last time he had particularly noted Christmas. Growing up it had usually been just another day. Some years, if there was a tiny bit extra to spare, they had a pudding. And now…..now Carlotta had been making noises about boar’s head and roasting whole pigs. She and cook had been happily ensconced in the kitchen, pouring over recipes and ideas for a feast the likes of which even Amidala House had not seen in many a year. 

Piett felt blessed indeed.

  
  


*****

Leia smoothed the front of her dress as the servant bore away her cloak and Piett’s. She checked her hair in one of many mirrors in the gorgeous anteroom, smoothing a few flyaways before turning back to the large crowd of people milling about. They were all waiting to be called into the King’s presence chamber. 

She smiled as she found Piett, looking singularly uncomfortable in the presence of all this grandeur. She swept to his side, aware that she was being watched, and took his arm in a friendly manner.

“You look absolutely marvelous, dearest Captain,” she told him, and he gave her a warm smile. He was impeccable in his new uniform, the epaulettes marking him a Fleet Captain, gleaming on his shoulders, and the cut of the coat utterly perfect. It ought to be---Leia had asked the best tailor to make it for him. His saber was at his hip and his hat was under his other arm and Leia was proud to be at his side. She would have felt that way had he been clad in his regular uniform as well, but it pleased her to no end to see that his external appearance was just as magnificent as the character of the man who wore it.

“Thank you, dear girl,” he said, “I confess that I would feel much more confident facing the French fleet at the moment.”

She chuckled lightly and they moved further apart from the glittering crowd. “I completely agree that I would prefer that as well. But I assure you this will not take very long. You are the only military knighthood today. There are four others receiving one as well.”

“Oh yes?” he asked. “What are they receiving a knighthood for?”

She shrugged. “I do not know. Yours is the only one I care about, Uncle Firmus.”

“Ah, it’s official then?” came a voice behind them, and Leia turned to see Colonel Veers looking very resplendent himself, in full dress, if a little out of breath.

“ _ Max _ ,” exclaimed Piett sounding and looking deeply pleased. “I did not know you would be here.”

Veers gave her a small grin and shake of the head. “Of  _ course  _ I was going to be here, Firmus. Been planning it for some weeks. I couldn’t miss my dearest friend receiving honors well merited could I? I absolutely  _ needed  _ to see that. Had to walk the last bit as the crowds are appalling at the moment and I was worried I would be late, but here we are.”

They clasped hands firmly.

“You are looking very well all around, Captain. I am sorry I could not get away to visit more than once, but her Ladyship has been kindly keeping me up to date on your recovery.”

Piett smiled at him in profound gratitude. The ride was 40 miles both ways after all and he had deeply appreciated that brief visit.

Leia smiled as the Colonel took her hand and kissed it gallantly. “Thank you for that, my Lady.”

“It was no trouble Colonel.”

“And I see that you have officially made him a family member, I am glad to note,” continued Veers resting his hand on his sword hilt and looking smugly at his friend.

Leia enjoyed the pleased expression on her Captain’s face.

“When a lady informs you that such is the way of things, would you refuse her?” Piett asked with great dignity, which served to only widen Veers’ grin. 

“Not this lady, certainly,” he agreed. “A better uncle and niece can not be found. And from my observations, Skywalkers are rarely, if ever, conventional.”

“I shall take that as a compliment, Colonel,” Leia told him as the doors were opened and the King’s steward called for them to enter.

“Good,” he responded, as Leia took Piett’s arm once more, “it was meant as one.”

They moved inside the chamber where her Father and other high ranking officials were already gathered, including Admiral Ozzel. A wicked sense of glee filled her and, as if sensing this, Piett pressed the hand she had on his arm. He handed her to the Colonel as he moved to take his place with the others receiving honors this day, over on the opposite side of the room.

“Tell me honestly, my dear Colonel,” Leia murmured as they stood with the rest of the assembled peers and important personages. “You are also here to see Ozzel’s face.”

The top ranks of the Admiralty were present, some because it was Lord Vader’s Captain, and others because a knighthood for a naval officer was something to stand behind. Regardless, Ozzel was no doubt present because of the peer pressure.

“My Lady,” Veers responded also sotto voice, “I am here to support my Captain and my friend.” He paused. “But I am  _ absolutely  _ also here to enjoy every moment of his pompousness’s humiliation as well.”

“This is why we are friends,” Leia told him, patting his arm and he chuckled quietly. 

“It is a privilege indeed. But we are causing Firmus to give us the eyebrow, so….”

It was at this juncture that His Sovereign Majesty George III was announced and he swept in, looking both regal and bored at the same time. 

Veers remarked as much to Leia.

“Yes,” she whispered in agreement, “I think it’s something of a requirement for a monarch on such occasions. The Queen is lovely, though I am not sure she will attend ….oh yes, she is. Well that is a pleasant surprise.”

The King stood beneath the royal canopy and the investitures began. Piett would be last, so Leia and Veers had the growing enjoyment of watching Ozzel get more disgruntled by the moment. And no stern looks from Piett nor quizzical eyebrow raises from her Father were going to stop them appreciating every second of the vice-Admiral’s comeuppance. 

The Lord Chamberlain called the names of those being honored and mentioned their merits and reason for the investiture to the monarch.

Ozzel could not keep his gaze from falling back on his former Captain, and he got redder with suppressed resentment by the minute.

“How would you describe his color?” Leia asked Veers softly. “Your jacket or the drapes over there?”   
  


“Difficult indeed to determine as it is shifting frequently,” the Colonel replied seriously, “but there are more purple undertones so I would have to say the drapes.”

Leia snorted very quietly.

At one point, Leia actually caught Ozzel’s eye. The color that had been mounting in his face was gone suddenly as she smiled dangerously, and inclined her head ever so slightly.

“Well,” Veers breathed, “he recalls you then.”

“I’m delighted to see that,” she said quietly, tightening her grip on his red sleeve happily. 

He shook slightly and she realized he was suppressing laughter. 

Somehow Piett managed to convey a sigh at them even though not a muscle in his face moved. Her Captain had very expressive eyes. She smiled sweetly at him.

“Captain Firmus Piett!” rang out and her Captain strode forward confidently, even though she was sure he was not feeling that internally. 

“That vein of Ozzel’s is back,” whispered Veers.

“So it is,” she agreed, watching the King as Piett’s accomplishments were summarized.

And George actually looked  _ interested  _ for the first time during the whole ceremony. 

“Lord Vader had very glowing things to say about your tactics, Captain,” the King said, “we are most grateful for your courageous efforts on our behalf. I would hear more of the battle….”

The Lord Chamberlain whispered in his ear. 

“Ah humph. Yes. Well, I do need to actually knight you then.”

And Piett knelt on the stool provided and Leia felt rather as though she might burst with happiness as His Majesty tapped him on each shoulder with the sword for such purposes. 

No changing it now---he was Captain Sir Firmus Piett and as the room applauded all the newly invested knights of the Empire, Leia glanced up to see that Veers was pinning Ozzel with a very hard stare indeed. 

The room bowed as the King and Queen departed once more, and Leia rushed to take Piett’s hands in hers. 

“Congratulations Uncle Firmus!” she exclaimed, kissing him on both cheeks and it was wonderful to see him looking so uninhibitedly happy.

“No ‘sir’?” queried her Father moving to join them at last. 

“I have already told you, Father,” Leia said primly, “that I do not like to stand on ceremony with family. Unless you prefer me calling you, ‘my Lord’?” 

“No indeed, daughter. Sir Firmus, I most heartily congratulate you,” he continued, shaking Piett’s hand firmly. 

“Thank you very much indeed, my Lord,” Piett replied. 

“Firmus,” the Colonel said, and Leia was not sure that she had ever seen the stern marine look so open. “It will be a pleasure to serve with a knight of the sea.”

Piett smiled broadly. “I like that a great deal. But I must confess that I’m most happy with ‘Captain’.”

And in a perfect moment of serendipitous timing, a servant approached their group just as Ozzel was going past, glaring heartily at them.

“His Majesty wishes to invite Lord Vader and his guests for some refreshment. He would hear more of your exploits at sea, Sir Firmus,” the man said with a bow and Leia smiled triumphantly at Ozzel’s puce colored face.

For the moment, life was utterly perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fleet Captain, Sir Firmus Piett. 
> 
> Uniforms take so very long, but I do love them so in the finished product. I had fun looking up Nelson's fighting sword and doing a basic approximation here for Piett.


	23. Requested and Required

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time to set sail once more, now that healing of many different sorts has happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we end this voyage! Thank you so very much dear readers for indulging this flight of fancy! (Piett's too let's be honest.)
> 
> I had such a grand time with this story and look forward to seeing you again soon.
> 
> If you are in a nautical mood, I've started writing some Horatio Hornblower stories as well which I'll be publishing soon. But next up is back to the main AU. :) 
> 
> Hope you all are staying safe and well!

Anakin stood on the balcony overlooking his great entryway and took in the glorious shining magic that had been wrought throughout his home. 

Garlands were draped everywhere, adding their spicey pine scents to the delicious smell of the dried oranges woven into them. The kitchen, despite being at the back of the house, could not contain the rich aromas that had pervaded the rest of the estate---mulled wine being heated, roasting pork, baking fruit, and fresh bread to name but a few. 

Soon the large dining room would be full, but at the moment most of his guests were milling about the huge hallway below him or in the gold drawing room where Leia had decreed the tree should be placed.

And what a hostess she was. He had felt conflicted emotions--so proud of her abilities and graciousness, while also missing Padme’ keenly as her spirit was so present in her daughter. She had stood by his side as they greeted each guest, and Anakin was taken back many years to the days when his gorgeous bride had done the same on many similar occasions.

He watched as his daughter spoke animatedly with Captain Solo. He could see her growing exasperation as she gestured, and yet she did not leave. The American remained relaxed, almost amused, and frankly seemed to be enjoying himself. 

Leia’s hand twitched toward a candlestick at one point, and Anakin rather hoped they weren’t starting the war all over again in his entrance hall. 

“If anything happens I’ll take the blame,” came his son’s voice at his side and Luke leaned over the railing with him, clad like his Father in full dress uniform for the occasion. 

“If Solo isn’t careful that may entail you and I burying his body in the garden.”

Luke snorted and Anakin basked in the warmth of his son as they stood shoulder to shoulder watching the guests below them. 

“ _ Why _ did you feel the need to invite him again?” he asked. 

“Han is a good man, if a bit rough around the edges, Father,” Luke told him. “Also have you ever seen any man stand his ground like that with Leia for that long? Outside of ourselves and Piett of course.”

Anakin reflected. “No, but then, to be fair, I have not been around your sister as much as I ought to have been.”

Luke sighed. “All right, that is fair. But I see you both repairing that.”

Anakin frowned, suddenly suspicious. “Luke…..are you encouraging something here?”

His son looked at him with wide innocent blue eyes. “Just being hospitable, Father.”

Anakin snorted. “My son. Encouraging his sister to fraternize with an _American_ ….ah good man, Captain.”

This was said because Piett had appeared and joined Solo and Leia. His daughter’s good humor returned and she lost that battle ready stance, sliding her hand over Piett’s arm as the Captain spoke pleasantly with Solo. 

Luke chuckled. “Leia is fully capable of looking after herself, Father. As she has abundantly proved. “   
  


They watched Carlotta enter with a huge platter and Baldwin came to her side.

“I get to partake of the fabled cuisine of the new Mrs. Baldwin,” Luke said eagerly. “Also is Leia telling me the truth? The Signora travelled to Southampton, got married, and returned? Just like that?”   
  


Anakin nodded, smiling broadly. “Just like that. I must confess I am terribly grieved I cannot employ her as a steward on the Executor. The woman is a magician.”   
  


Leia and Piett were making their farewells to Solo and Luke patted Anakin’s arm.

“I should go help out Han. I left Wedge somewhere and it will be entertaining to have them speaking together again.”

“You, young one, are incorrigible,” Anakin said pointing a stern finger at him as Luke began descending the broad staircase.

His son merely laughed. 

Anakin watched the crowd mingling for a little longer. Venka was chatting seriously with Veers, both of them with glasses in their hands. Sergeant Ellery was with a large crowd of marines, their red coats very suited to the holiday they were here for. A number of young ladies were eyeing said marines from across the room. Young Lieutenant Davis was speaking with three of them and looking pleased and uncomfortable at the same time. 

Anakin spotted several of his captains. Time to join them and play host. He descended the stairs and experienced the familiar pang of loss with no petite form at his side. Even all these years later, it still stung. But then Luke’s laugh rang out above the crowd and he spotted Leia happily saying something to Piett and he realized that Padme’ was indeed here in a way. 

His daughter caught his gaze, Padme’ smiling at him through her, and a piece of Anakin’s soul was whole once more. 

******

Leia smiled and waved once more from the open double doors as the last of the carriages rolled away. Her back ached, and her feet ached, and she could feel every hairpin on her head, but she was also flush with success. 

It was by far the largest party she had ever hosted in her life and it had been the happiest as well. She looked up as her Father slid a warm arm around her waist and drew her back inside with him as the footmen shut the doors.

“That was magnificent, Leia. I cannot tell you how very proud I am. Your mother could not have done any better.”

She felt a tangled mix of emotion at this, but mostly she felt the glow of her Father’s love--- his attentive, fully focused affection, unhindered by grief or deliberate walls.

“That is the highest compliment, Father, thank you,” she responded, placing her arm around his waist in turn as they ambled slowly down the large corridor toward the back of the house where faint sounds of conversation and laughter could still be heard.

“We must fill our home more often,” he said, smiling as Luke’s laugh rang out over others. “It was meant for that. Your mother meant it for that---to be a place of safety and rest and joy.”

“It is. It will be,” Leia said quietly.

They paused near the small sitting room which had been converted back to its original purpose now that Piett had mostly recovered and been given the blue room the next floor up. 

“Are you coming to join us?” she asked, puzzled as to why they had stopped.   
  


“I am,” he told her, smiling down at her fondly, “but duty first I am afraid. I have some correspondence that cannot wait. I hope not to be more than a half hour.”

She nodded, moving to tiptoe to kiss his cheek as her Father strode to his study, and she made her way into the cozy sitting room, filled with people now woven firmly into the fabric of her life. 

The men all rose courteously as she appeared, but she waved them back down swiftly. 

All of them had discarded their splendid uniform coats, and her brother’s stock was undone and his blonde head slightly untidy.

She shook her head over him, and noted the several trays of leftovers on the sideboard with approval. The fire had been stoked recently and the room was bright with its presence. Wedge was sprawled across the smaller sofa while Hobbie and Luke stood before the fire.

She was not disappointed that the American captain had departed. He had insisted on staying in the local inn rather than at Amidala House even though Luke had extended the invitation. He had had the good sense to see that his presence may not be welcome for so extended a period.

Thus, she was not disappointed…..she  _ wasn’t _ . _Was she?_

Shoving these disquieting thoughts away, she allowed her gaze to be drawn to the one she could count on to help sooth a ruffled soul. Piett was not sprawled in so undignified a fashion as Wedge, but had claimed a spot on the other sofa where he could rest his legs on the ottoman before him. He had one ankle over the other and was in the process of retrieving a second glass of brandy from the small table at his side which he held out to her invitingly.

_ Uncle Firmus was ever thoughtful. _

She moved to him immediately, sinking down to his side and kicking off her satin shoes so she could be as comfortable as possible before accepting the glass and leaning on his shoulder contentedly. 

Veers was next to them in the deepest armchair and was happy enough it seemed, to watch everyone with half lidded eyes. She sipped at the brandy and wondered if she might witness the stern Colonel relax enough to actually fall asleep in their presence. 

“Leia, you missed Wedge’s story about chasing the chicken through the ship,” Luke told her mock reprovingly, and Hobbie snickered at his side.

“I have heard Cousin Wedge’s story about the chicken in the ship,” she answered, allowing the superb brandy to relax her muscles. Piett’s arm came around her shoulders and she smiled up at his content face, so very pleased that her Captain clearly felt welcome and at home here. As he should.

“Surely you have more than just the one amusing story, Wedge?” she asked, looking at him expectantly.

Wedge groaned. “That’s the best I have. Especially now that I’m so tired. Besides, I am not the one usually in the awkward situation. That would be Klivian.”

‘“I take offense at that,” Hobbie said stiffly.

“You always do,” Wedge responded, closing his eyes and waving a nonchalant hand. Luke laughed again.

“I have to confess, Commander,” said Piett, “that I wonder at your choice of officers if this is the calibre we may expect.”

Leia smiled as all three younger men turned wounded gazes upon the Fleet Captain. 

Luke spoke first. “Sir, I realize they aren’t giving their best showing at the moment, but I assure you….”

Veers snorted. “I'm just disappointed in you. What’s happened to the younger generation? When I was your age a chicken escaping in the ship was commonplace. A pig now….. _that_ was a chase.”

Piett was shaking his head into his glass as Wedge perked up from his place on the sofa, scenting a story.

“Did you experience this personally, sir?”

“Who do you think caught the damn thing, Lieutenant?” Veers drawled, finishing his drink. 

“How, sir?” Luke asked, coming to flop beside Leia, and she reached to pat his arm without moving from her place beside her Captain.

“I’m a marine aren’t I, Commander Skywalker? I shot it. We all had fresh pork. Cook wasn’t best pleased, but it was that or damage our vessel.”

Hobbie and Wedge laughed heartily when another voice interrupted them.

“Yes, that’s all very well Veers, but the animal is still smaller than you. I don’t think any of you gentlemen have had the delightful experience of transporting the mounts for various Generals and Colonels in our esteemed army. When a horse is loose on a ship---ah, now that’s a tale worth telling.”

And Anakin came fully into the room, helping himself to some of the cheese and meat before pouring a large glass of port and sinking into a chair opposite Veers.

Leia exchanged a look with her brother.

“Did this really happen, Father,” she asked skeptically, “or are you just trying to top the other stories?”

He gave her the raised eyebrow. “My own child doubts me. It really happened, Leia. Settle in and I shall educate you on the fine art of cornering a panicked stallion on board a 74.”

Leia had never witnessed this side of her Father. Luke leaned into her slightly on one side, and Piett’s arm tightened around her shoulders gently as the others all straightened minutely in obedience to Anakin’s demand.

Stories around a fire, with her family and their friends, Leia reflected as Anakin began his animated recollection. She had never thought it a possibility, yet here they were. She closed her eyes peacefully.

  
  


******

  
  


The pipes sounded for him, and Piett came up over Executor’s newly finished side as nimbly as he ever had. The smiles on the faces of his officers and men were frankly far beyond non regulation, but he couldn’t bring himself to reprimand them when they were clearly so deeply pleased to see him.

He removed his hat briefly in salute, then replaced it, and moved to his place on the quarterdeck before nodding swiftly at the side boys and Baldwin.

“Pipe the Admiral if you please.”

And a great fanfare rose for Lord Vader as he too ascended the side, turning as he reached the deck to give his hand to his daughter.

Her Ladyship would be sailing with them back to Oran where Lord Vader was renting a large villa for her. Here she intended to work with the local people and would be overseeing the building of the hospital in England through correspondence with several doctors and contractors. This allowed her to see all of them more often, but she was also working with several English doctors who were seeking to run a charity hospital in Oran.

The Admiral removed his hat briefly as well, before coming up to the quarterdeck to stand beside Piett. Her Ladyship came to the Captain’s other side, patting his arm discreetly as she did so. He caught Veers’ eye further to his left and quirked the corner of his mouth ever so slightly at his friend. Veers touched his hat as Lord Vader began to speak. 

“It is my very great pleasure and honor to stand upon our Lady’s decks---whole once more!”

The crew cheered lustily and Piett, tucked his hands behind his back, maintaining his dignity, but he felt their joy just as keenly. She was gleaming from stem to stern. The decks were sanded to perfection, the sails were pristine, furled in eager readiness, and anything that was brass gleamed like gold. 

“It is high time, therefore that we embark once more to do our part to defeat the French tyrant, once and for all.” He waited for the next cheers to die down. “I am so very proud of this crew. But I have said enough.”

Piett and Venka looked at Vader simultaneously in surprise before recalling themselves and shifting their eyes forward.

_ That had seemed rather brief for the Admiral….. _

“Because you really ought to hear from your Captain now as he has not had a chance to bawl you out for months and we should start making up for it immediately.”

Laughter rippled through the men, and Piett was recalling how to do his best impassive face which he had perfected under Ozzel. 

He hated public address. Lord Vader knew this…..Yes, he very much still _did_ know it judging from the smug look he was giving Piett at the moment. Her Ladyship gave him another little pat on the arm.

“I don’t know if you all have been informed,” continued his Lordship, mischief oozing from his hat to his shoes, “but your Captain received a knighthood from his most sovereign Majesty…..”

A roar of approval drowned him out and Piett could feel that damned flush creeping over his cheeks, and was Tom openly grinning? He was, the bastard.

The Admiral waited for the hubbub to die down. “Yes, and he has demonstrated yet again, that this crew and this Captain suit each other very well to guide the best ship in his Majesty’s Royal Navy!”

The sound was deafening at this pronouncement, and then Lord Vader stood aside and gestured to Piett.

He stepped forward and grasped the rail, needing to feel the Lady’s polished wood beneath his hands if he was being forced to do this.

He didn’t dare shoot his Lordship the look he wanted to, so raised his chin and made sure his spine was straight. This seemed to elicit a very soft chuckle from his Admiral, and Piett felt that if Fate was being fair at the moment, a gust of wind would knock Lord Vader’s hat off into the ocean. 

Fate, it seemed, was just as interested in playing the merry hell with him at the moment, so there was nothing for it. 

_ Honest and to the point. He was not good with smooth or fanciful language.  _

His eyes found the Bosun’s and the man gave him a wide smile and touched his knuckles to his forehead. Piett gave him a small smile back, forever indebted to this man. And he knew what he needed to say.

“I am so very grateful to be standing before you all today,” he began and had to pause once more as the crew cheered loudly. He could see Veers smiling broadly in his periphery and could practically feel the knowing glance his friend was shooting him.

“Thank you. I am quite happy to have weathered my own storm just as our Lady has weathered hers. I….am not a man given to glorious speeches as you already know. I think I would be much more eloquent if I could be ‘bawling you out’ as his Lordship so eloquently put it.” 

Another ripple of laughter, and the Admiral touched his hat to his Captain. 

Piett took a breath. “I am unable to think of another ship I would ever wish to Captain, and I am quite certain that while there are many fine crews amongst our fleet, this is the only one worthy for the flagship of the fleet!”

Mighty cheering. 

He glanced sideways at Lord Vader.  _ Could his torment be finished?  _ The Admiral smiled and inclined his head.

Piett nodded back. “I am therefore very pleased to say it is time to weigh anchor!”

The crew cheered and began to scramble to their places. Piett was assured in saying these words.

“Man the braces!” he called. “Loose the tops’ls!”

And such a swell of joy rose in his breast as the white sails bloomed forth and the Lady began to make her slow and regal way out of the harbor, leading her fleet out to sea.

Her Ladyship slipped her hand under his arm and Veers stepped around to his other side as Venka moved down to the main deck, happily roaring orders, and the Admiral stood back to watch it all. 

The wind freshened across his face, bringing him promise of depthless blue water and vast open skies, and his soul sang his content.

Piett reflected on the last few months spent at Amidala House and his own new abode. It had been restful and right---he had loved the time there. 

But  _ home _ \--- that place where the soul finds true rest----home as they said, was where the heart was. Piett’s heart was _here_ , on these mighty decks, it was here in the wind, and the sea, and the sky. It was here with the girl at his side, and the tall Marine at attention on the other. 

Piett was home. 

  
  



End file.
